


Filming into the Night

by Stelia22



Series: Filming into the Night [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stelia22/pseuds/Stelia22
Summary: Jack and Gavin are film students at university forced to work together for a partner project. Thing is, Jack is a dreaded mature aged student, and will probably be like all the other arrogant uptight buzzkill ones that Gavin, second-year school-leaver, has worked with in the past. But the more they work together, the more Gavin learns that Jack is nothing like he thought, and soon enough he starts falling in love.***Rewritten on 20.11.20 in light of recent events.***
Relationships: Gavin Free/Jack Pattillo
Series: Filming into the Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911778
Comments: 26
Kudos: 23





	1. Pre-production

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under the Weather](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925853) by [Stelia22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stelia22/pseuds/Stelia22). 



> Content warning: large character describing himself as fat (light-heartedly, about fitting into college desks).
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a film student, so there may be inaccuracies. I am also not American, so this is a combination of the Australian and American uni systems, so there will be inaccuracies there as well. This fic is almost finished (currently writing last chapter) and is about 20k words, split into 3 chapters for easier reading. This fic is unbetaed, and I am open to any and all feedback.
> 
> Shout-out to MyOwnAnthem who mentioned that they wanted to see this written. It took three months, but you're the reason this fic exists.
> 
> ***Re-write completed on 20.11.20.***

Gavin doesn’t know anyone in his cinematography class, he’s late to his computer lab and the last seat is next to this ginger bearded older guy (there’s _grey_ in his beard, Christ). Definitely a mature aged student, then.

Thing is, Gavin doesn't hate older people. People going back to uni when they're older - awesome, good on them, education, good shit. But mature aged students are a special kind of hell, especially in group projects. And considering this is cinematography, collaborative anything is the name of the game.

He’s just slumped into his chair when the tutor tells them to pair up with people.

For a partner project.

Shit.

There's someone else next to Gavin, someone who actually looks like they were born this century, but as Gavin turns to them, they've already turned to their friend next to them and paired up, so that's out. Everyone is quickly pairing off, and Gavin thinks of standing up and just wandering around the room in hopes of finding someone because if he's stuck with one more mature aged student –

"Hey, do you want to work together?"

Gavin jumps because that’s a really deep voice from right next to him. But he looks over and it's the ginger bearded guy, who here’s for Christmas presents, apparently. And _Christ_ , of course this group project bullshit is happening all over again.

Gavin sneaks one last look around the room, and sure enough everyone’s already paired off, chattering away with their partners because they were smart enough to have friends in this course.

"Fine, sure, whatever."

"What the - OK?" the guy splutters like he was about to protest, but then reigned it in. After a moment, he says, " 'Hi, I'm Jack, nice to meet you.' " There's bite to it and that surprises Gavin more than anything, because honestly?

This guy looks like the most placid version of a lumberjack Santa to ever exist.

And the thing is, Gavin didn't mean to be so rude. It's just –

Groups projects with mature age students always descend into them bragging about all the _experience_ they have, all the extra work they did, throwing around industry lingo and key buzzwords to make themselves seem smart. They’re completely dismissive of Gavin and his input, never trusting him with anything, always thinking they know better because they filmed a couple of amateur projects all by themselves last summer. They’re smug, uptight, condescending buzzkills and Gavin hates group projects with them more than anything.

Jack looks like every one of those people.

"You ever meet someone named Glen Coco?" Gavin says, because he's always been good at putting his foot in his mouth. He waves a hand at Jack’s face. "You’re all Santa and shit."

The tutor says the usual spiel about making sure they have their partner's email so that they can work on the project, how if you don't like your partner you can make a complaint (that the higher-ups never actually look at), and how they can't just fodder off the time. Gavin's not going to have that problem, that's for sure. Can't fodder off if your partner is the my-way-or-the-highway type.

He starts tuning out the rest only to realise that Jack’s staring at him, eyebrows raised. Why is he – oh. Right. Should probably introduce himself. People look for that, don’t they?

"I'm Gavin," he says. "Email's fine, by the way." He tears off a corner from a page in his brand new notebook - which earns another questioning look - before writing it down. If Gavin liked the person he was working with, text would be preferable, but email is more professional and, technically speaking, better evidence when filing a complaint.

They exchange emails, and Gavin turns away to read the project brief. Short film, twenty minutes, must incorporate a given list of film techniques, a lot of locations and must have the workload of a five-person crew, to simulate the experience of people bailing at the last minute.

It's worth _half_ of his final mark. And it's with someone who will probably fuck him over (made worse because he seems perfectly nice now, but it's always the nice ones that turn out the worst, isn't it?).

* * *

They decide to work in Jack’s apartment just off-campus because this is a big project and they both have busy schedules since filming projects for other classes takes a long time. Fine by Gavin to work in Jack’s place – he sure as hell isn’t going to let anyone into his dorm room.

Or it would be, if it wasn't for the repeated thudding from behind Jack’s door.

Figures. First time Gavin goes to work on a new project and his ‘teammate’ has someone _over_. It’s happened to him often enough that he can tell that it’s stuff banging against a coffee table. He listens out for moans or cries from either Jack or whoever the hell he’s got in there. What would Jack’s moans sound like, anyway? Would they be deep – well of course they’d be deep, his voice was – but would they be low and stifled due to the thin walls of the apartment building, or loud in pleasure, or –

There’s a huff from behind the door. Gavin curses, and quickly knocks on the door to stop his own train of thought. Even interrupting a shagging session involving his new ‘teammate’ is better than whatever he’s thinking.

A curse, a toss of something against the coffee table, a huff, and eventually, the opening of the door.

Jack’s face is flushed and sweaty. “Hey, it’s Gavin, right?” he says quickly, all business-y, like he hadn’t just made _noises_ seconds ago. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

“Oh!” Gavin says, because what else can he say to a 180 like that? “Sure?”

Jack’s apartment block is one of those freshly built modern ones, and his apartment reflects that; it’s a small but tidy IKEA store of modern, minimal furnishings. A sofa and coffee table in the living room lead to the dining room and kitchen, all sleek clean lines and shiny surfaces. It’s all very white. Some joke Michael made about waking up in a room of white and the international date line comes to mind. Jack seems similarly out of place here. Not that it isn’t his place. It’s just that Gavin gets the impression that sleek and modern isn’t really Jack’s style. He seems more like a rustic, everything-is-wood kind of guy.

Wood. Which reminds him. Gotta make sure he doesn’t sit in any jizz or something, since whoever was here isn’t anymore. That’s when he notices the TV in the living room. Which has a bunch of motorcycles on the screen and very familiar physics.

“Is that _Trials Rising?_ ” Gavin exclaims before he can stop himself.

“Sorry,” Jack jumps up and turns off the TV.

“No, I – ” Gavin breaks off. When Jack pauses to consider him, remote still in hand, Gavin adds, “I play Trials too. Played the whole series.” He notices that the TV stands on a rotated bookshelf and that there’s a bunch of Xbox games stacked there. “I didn’t know you played video games.”

He doesn’t know why he’s trying to be reassuring. Maybe it’s the apprehension on Jack’s face, like he thinks…like he thinks Gavin would hate him. And he does, but it’s not because he _plays video games_. ~~~~

Jack flushes, of all things. He tosses the remote onto the coffee table where, to Gavin’s shock, there’s an Xbox controller. Thankfully, it’s not purple and orange like Jeremy’s monstrosities.

No lube, though, or any other shagging supplies.

“What were you doing, before I knocked on the door?” Gavin blurts out. At Jack’s confused look, he adds, “I heard banging. And. Stuff.”

Now that he says it out aloud it just sounds really awkward, a perfect match to Jack’s disbelieving chuckle.

“Sorry, I was just banging my controller against the table because I was trying to complete an extreme level and I kept missing a particular jump.”

“Oh. Right.” Because even Gavin knows not to say what he had thought was going on. He chances a cursory glance around him, just to make sure, and everything checks out. Video games, not shagging. Right. “Some of those extreme levels are really hard.” _Ha,_ hard. “They’re great – just, really hard.”

Jack smiles. “Trials is my favourite video game series. But we should get to work. Is the dining room OK?”

Gavin looks over at the dining table. It’s on the small side, but it doesn’t wobble and is impeccably clean. He’d have taken it if it’d just been the second. “Sure.”

* * *

The project requirements are substantial. Tell a traditional three-act narrative (i.e. a _script_ ) using cinematography techniques. The list of required techniques cover shot sizes and angles, and lighting types. Other film techniques – such as shot composition, camera framing and focus – are their own choice: in other words, only choose techniques that serve the story, and not have an ounce of fun with it.

“The phrase is, ‘Choose the cinematography techniques that you think are most appropriate for the subject and story you’re filming.’,” Jack recites, because apparently he swallowed the textbook force-fed to every first-year cinematography student. And because Gavin had said all that out aloud. “There’s reasons for that, you know.”

“Oh, for sure. But they’re asking us for so many types of shots and lighting that they’re asking us to make a film like it’s a feature length one rather than a short one. With a two-person crew.”

“And the workload of five,” Jack adds unhelpfully.

“Writing the script alone will be a problem. The longest they’ve asked for before is ten minutes.”

“I’ll write up the script, don’t worry,” Jack says so confidently that Gavin can’t help but accept it.

“Sweet.”

That’s one thing out of the way, at least; Gavin had thought for sure that he’d have to handle it, since that’s how these things usually went, regardless of who he worked with.

“What ideas do you have for the film?” Jack asks.

Gavin pauses.

Normally that would be an off-hand question. And it still is; Jack’s probably just being nice. But most people put their own ideas forward first, then ask for others as an afterthought. It’s rare that Gavin gets asked for ideas first.

So rare that he hadn’t bothered to prepare any, knowing that they would inevitably get steam-rolled over the next day.

“I don’t usually get asked first,” he replies awkwardly. “Um…what ideas do you have?”

But Jack shakes his head. “I want to get your input first.”

His gaze is steady, like he asks people this all the time and they all react the same way Gavin does.

Gavin’s brain short-circuits.

Well. If he insists.

Gavin quickly looks over the brief again. It says that the film needs to be about evolution, growth and making the mundane beautiful. There are prompts at the bottom for inspiration.

Gavin tends to think in terms of visuals, not writing, so he fires off some ideas based on the picture prompts, which are of a sprouting plant and a plaza lit up at night. Of plants growing on top of people’s heads like the potted plant character in the game _Moving Out_ Of a spy hunting down a traitor in a city. Just one sentence things to test the waters. ~~~~

Jack looks…contemplative. Like he’s actually considering his ideas. He doesn’t look annoyed, or angry, or even like he’s pretending to like his ideas but actually thinks that they’re scum.

Jack says that he likes the spy idea best. He explains that even though he likes the plant idea, potted plants – even foam ones – might become heavy when left on actors’ heads for hours, and that with extra parts of costumes maintaining continuity between takes would be more difficult.

He’s thinking ahead. He’s thinking of the actors. Gavin can’t remember the last time anyone did either. And they’re good points.

But when Jack asks him for more details about the spy idea, like how he’ll make the mundane beautiful – beyond the cinematography – and how he’ll incorporate the themes of evolution and growth, Gavin isn’t sure.

Jack writes the idea down anyway.

“So what ideas do you have?” Gavin says.

Jack flips his notebook back to the previous page, and Gavin’s eyes widen at the copious notes he’s written down.

Jack admits that he’s not entirely sure what they mean by evolution since they didn’t define it in the brief; did they mean evolution biology (“Darwin,” Jack explains at Gavin’s confused look), or did it mean the same as growth, or did it mean the ‘evolution’ of cinematography, or did it mean something else? So he came up with ideas for each: A _Planet of the Apes_ sort of thing; a day-in-the-life of someone who either grows daily from it or stagnates because of it; and a parallel story contrasting two similar people in different times and using that to explore different eras of cinematography.

Even then, there are subcategories – evolution means the gradual development of something, Jack says, googling it on his laptop to prove it – so another idea is a receptionist who becomes overwhelmed when they suddenly take on too many responsibilities, and using that to show the value of gaining them gradually instead; the ‘mundane’. The underlying stories of each of his ideas would be about characters growing to appreciate mundane things, or vice versa despite the potential consequences.

It's a lot.

It’s…admirable, how much thought Jack’s put into this, even as Gavin’s head is spinning.

When Jack asks him what he thinks of his ideas, Gavin takes the time to think them over. He’d never thought of evolution in those ways before and from the prompts under the brief any of them would be fine. But…

He doesn’t really like any of Jack’s ideas.

The _Planet of the Apes_ thing sounds like a nature documentary without David Attenborough in it. A day-in-the-life reminds him too much of endless nights spent filming peoples’ hands slamming alarm clocks and their daily routines. Parallel stories tend to halve variety in narrative, shots and creativity because they’re essentially telling the same story twice. Filming different eras of cinematography feels too much like ‘film noir’ stuff, something else overdone in student films. And a worker staring soulfully out of windows whilst bored out of their mind is also bland and overdone, no matter how closely their introspection fits with what’s needed for the film.

They’re too _literal_ in showing their respective definitions of evolution. He knows that the film has to be about evolution and growth and so on, but there are ways of having them in there without it feeling like it’s being thrown in their faces.

And Gavin shouldn’t be picky – Jack’s already thought more about this project than some of Gavin’s past teammates have in other projects – but he needs to be honest with Jack. Jack has put a lot of thought into his ideas and didn’t just play yes-man to Gavin’s.

He deserves thought back, honesty at the very least, even if he doesn’t like it.

Gavin fumbles out words about how he likes Jack’s dedication but isn’t the biggest fan of his ideas. Jack stiffens but tells him to go on.

So he does.

Bit by bit, Gavin tells him exactly why he doesn’t like them even though technically, they would be suitable. Jack’s lips are tight, his back ramrod straight, but he doesn’t interrupt Gavin, not even once. Gavin tries to cushion the blow, tries to be all nice about it, but from Jack’s contemplative look he seems to see through it all anyway.

“Thank you, Gavin,” he says, finally, a while after Gavin’s done.

They’d both taken a minute to breathe after Gavin had explained everything; Gavin because it’d taken more courage to tell him than he’d like to admit and Jack because he was – well, he was probably thinking over what Gavin had said.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Jack adds after a moment. “It makes sense, what you’re saying. I agree with you. I was too – well, I got wrapped up in what _evolution_ meant, and I didn’t realise that my ideas boiled down to overdone things.”

“They’re not just that,” Gavin says hastily, because he doesn’t want Jack to think that, either.

“I guess so. But I can see how they could become that.”

“I think the point of the project is to film a proper story in a bunch of locations. Evolution, growth – those are just guidelines for what to make the story about. It’s important, yes. Just…not so in your face, would be good.”

They go back to the spy idea. Some google searches later and they agree to focus on character evolution and to use it in the same way as growth.

Jack comes up with the idea of the spy being money hungry. Literal growth in money at the cost of being a good person – of evolving – Gavin says. Money-hungry to not money-hungry, Jack adds. Gavin comes up with the idea of a flash-drive, this mundane little thing containing essential blueprints and profiles for weapons stores and suppliers. Of the spy and the traitor fighting over this information.

At this point, Jack hesitates. He’s written all their ideas down but now he’s studying it with something a little too intense, biting his lip. He opens his mouth then snaps it shut, in a way that’s very familiar.

It’s how Gavin gets when he wants to ask a question but can’t bring himself to, when he swallows them down during group projects even when he has no idea what he needs to do, because asking would only get angry words and a rocked boat.

Gavin doesn’t want that. No matter how things go down between them.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, as gently as possible.

Jack hesitates. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Gavin’s about to ask again, but finally, Jack says:

“Where could we film this? It’s just – ” Jack stops himself, but Gavin nods at him to continue. “We need to film in a lot of locations, none of which can be at uni, so we need ones that are easy to get. I love this idea, don’t get me wrong. But it sounds like we need a lot of locations that aren’t readily available, like an empty warehouse for the weapons stores and a police station for the spy headquarters, so we should figure out some alternatives.”

“We’d just need a big empty indoor space and a somewhere with computers and interview rooms, like an office with conference rooms or something,” Gavin answers easily. He knows some people can be demanding about locations – the flipside is those who don’t care at all – so he understands Jack’s concern.

“Aren’t offices with conference rooms the same as classrooms and meeting rooms at uni, none of which we’re allowed to use?”

“No. And if it is, screw it. Offices are generic and they’re already asking us to not film on campus or within half a mile on it. Most people won’t be able to use their own places, so they’ll be turning to wherever they work or places their friends know. An office building would be good; we could use different offices and conference rooms as the spy headquarters and the mainframe where the intel comes from.”

“Isn’t the whole point of the project to film in a variety of locations, rather than fake locations as somewhere they’re not?”

“Yeah, but I think it’s more about trying to get people outside, since most people just film in their dorm rooms and stuff. If we can’t get a big indoor space and an office, we can always relocate wherever we’re missing or remove the place they’re faking for from the script entirely. Spy stories can be set anywhere, can’t they?”

Jack looks very impressed at that.

“Okay,” Jack nods. Then he bites his lip, and it hits Gavin that maybe not all of Jack’s concerns had been voiced. “We’ll need filming permits, location release agreements and insurance,” he rattles off.

“Of course,” Gavin says, and Jack’s surprised look kicks him right in the shins. “We gotta do it all legally, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Jack answers, his shoulders loosening slightly.

“But we’ll get to that later,” Gavin says, because they need to finish up a few things before they get to that. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”

They talk things out. They finish outlining the story, then they move onto the camera shots. They can’t do much without the script or knowing where they can film, but Jack groups a bunch of shots on the checklist together and Gavin realizes that most of them are just the standard ones for a two-person conversation with a bunch of different angles.

They talk over lighting and cameras and Jack suggests that they rent the ones they’re using in class from uni. After clarifying that he’s not just suggesting it out of convenience, Gavin agrees with him. It’s not the best equipment, but Gavin has a tendency to linger too much over specs and he knows deep down that good gear alone doesn’t make a good film.

Then they talk about sound.

They can’t get anyone else to help, not even to hold a boom microphone, so neither of them are quite sure how to handle that. It takes Gavin a while to realise that Jack doesn’t know either, because he kind of waffles around it, but they get there eventually. Gavin shrugs and tells him that it’s fine and that they can look into it later. Jack gives him an odd look at that, but Gavin doesn’t notice it at the time, because if someone doesn’t know something then they don’t know it, that’s just how it is.

After that, Jack designates tasks. He asks upfront what Gavin’s strengths are – lighting, quickly framing subjects and handling sound – and assigns those to him. Jack will handle the rest of the cinematography, plus writing the script, storyboard and shot list, and editing the final film. They’ll rent equipment from uni and they’ll scout locations together.

“We can start scouting tomorrow, if you’re available,” Jack says, as they wrap up. “I’ll make sure to bring the paperwork for it, so that if we find somewhere good then we can get it sorted straight away.”

“Sure, I’m free in the morning,” Gavin says. It’s quick, without a doubt, but if they can figure out where they can film now then things will go a lot smoother, including whether they have to relocate parts of their film. Besides, it’s not like they can make much of a film without knowing where they can film in the first place, just like Jack had said earlier. “When do you want to start?”

Jack bites his lip. “Um, is 10am okay with you? I’m free all day, so I can start whenever. I’d ask for earlier but I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“What time were you thinking?” Gavin asks. “If you didn’t care about intruding?”

Jack hesitates.

“If you say a time and it’s too early for me I’ll let you know and we can talk about it,” Gavin adds. “That’s what collaborative stuff is all about, right? Talking?”

So, an explanation. Gavin had wanted to comfort, in some way. To ease Jack’s apprehension. What had come out instead was a bunch of cliched lines that was probably in some terrible movie.

But Jack nods.

“I was thinking 5am? Leave at 4am. We’d be starting with a couple of parks and some side streets.”

That’s.

“You want to do an early morning shoot?” Gavin asks incredulously, since most people don’t choose to shoot that early, if they can avoid it.

“I wanted to shoot during golden hour, actually. The earlier we start the earlier we can get there.”

Ah, that makes more sense. Golden hour is prime time for good lighting, frantic shooting and is commonly misconceived as being effortless to film in.

“Once we start shooting, yes. But tomorrow we’re just scouting locations, so we don’t necessarily have to leave that early. I don’t mind, but we should scout the location at the time of day we want to shoot it at. So maybe – when does the sun rise? 6:30am?” Gavin says as he pulls out his phone to check.

“6am,” Jack says, before he even unlocks his phone. “Maybe we can leave at 5am, then? If there’s traffic we’ll still get there in time, and if we’re early we can talk more specifically about what we’re looking for in locations before we scout.”

“I mean, all I’m looking for right now is wherever we can shoot at for free that happens to fit,” Gavin shrugs. “We should ask friends and stuff first, see if they have anything. But 5am is fine. Could you pick me up, though? I’m not – accustomed to driving.”

* * *

Gavin yawns his way into Jack’s car and slumps into the passenger seat. 5am, sharp, on the dashboard. Comfy seats.

“Thanks for this,” Jack says from the driver’s seat. He looks steely awake, but the circles under his eyes are darker than Gavin’s and his hands are clenching the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling asleep. “I would have gotten you coffee, but I don’t know what you like.”

“It’s fine. Milk and sugar, if it matters,” Gavin mumbles. Jack’s car is _really_ comfy, all squishy and stuff. He’s even turned on the overhead light, which Gavin winces at. “Ugh, too bright.”

“I’ll turn it off once you put your seatbelt on,” Jack says gently, when Gavin yawns again “I know it’s early. I could…I could let you sleep for a bit if you need it.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Sorry, just give me time to wake up.” Gavin stretches his arms, cursing when his fists hit the ceiling, but it wakes him up enough to put his seatbelt on. “Done.”

“Thanks,” Jack smiles at him softly, turning off the light before pulling out onto the street. Or at least Gavin thinks he smiles. Kind of hard to tell in the dark. And Gavin thinks it’s soft, but it’s probably just a trick in the light of the dashboard.

“So where are we going?”

“I was originally going to take you to the parks I’d talked about, but there’s no traffic right now, so we could drive around town first, see if there’s any buildings we could use for exterior shots, maybe even establishing ones,” Jack hesitates, before adding, “We could also see if driving around gives us any ideas for where we could film at other than, ‘wherever’s free that happens to fit’. And if we have some time left before sunrise we could check out some quiet streets. Just to see what might be possible, what places you like.”

Gavin chuckles. “Yeah, ‘wherever’s free’ is a bit vague, isn’t it? I’m down. If we find, like – oh!” He sits up as a familiar, brightly-lit bakery zooms past.

“What is it?”

“That’s where Lindsay works! My friend,” Gavin explains at Jack’s confused glance. He’s been there many times, so it’s easy to recall what he remembers from his visits there. “It’s not an office, but it’s nice and bright like a spy’s headquarters.”

“A bakery and a spy’s headquarters…they aren’t nearly the same thing,” Jack says with a mixture of disbelief and incredulousness. “Based on that, you could say – never mind.”

Gavin could comment on that last part, but Jack looks uncomfortable now, like he hadn’t meant to keep going, so he leaves it alone and says, “Yeah, but it’s something, right?”

He shrugs to go along with the casual question, but given that Jack’s mouth is now opening and closing over and over, Gavin suddenly wonders whether Jack will throw in the towel now.

“Okay…” Jack eventually trails off. He swallows, makes a turn, and swallows again. “Um…”

“We can use somewhere else, it’s fine,” Gavin says hastily.

“No, no,” Jack says quickly, though his voice is a bit too small for Gavin to feel like he really means it. “It’s just…”

He looks like he’s going to say something, but then he doesn’t. He starts to say something, but then he stops himself halfway through the first word. He chokes out another abrupt sound shortly after. A minute goes by, with only silence, and Gavin can’t help but look over in worry.

Jack’s shoulders are almost up to his ears and his lips are tightly pursed like he’s actively stopping himself from bursting out with what he wants to say.

Gavin can’t have that. He can’t.

“What is it?” Gavin asks as softly and as gently as he can.

He’s never really been one to be soothing – he’s usually the bubbly excitable one amongst his friends – but something must have worked out, because Jack takes a slow, shaky breath and says:

“What if we can’t get an office at all, or something similar? What do we do? We can’t fake a spy’s headquarters from, say, a park or something. I could get some tables and chairs and set them up if we need to…”

“No, no, no, we don’t need to do that!” Gavin hastens to tell him. “I mean, I appreciate your dedication, but if we can’t get an office-like place…I’m not sure, honestly, but spy stories can be set anywhere, can’t they? They can get like, phone orders for missions or something.”

“ ‘Phone orders for missions’,” Jack echoes.

For some reason, Gavin had thought that Jack would make some sort of joke. Gavin’s said similar lines before during other group projects, and at least one person would have made a joke or something.

But he doesn’t.

As it is, Jack keeps driving, face closed off and serious as anything, as though he’s steeling himself for having to comb through antique stores to get the required props for it.

He suddenly wants to make Jack laugh. To _smile._ To be anything but so tense that his shoulders are still up to his ears.

After a moment, Jack straightens, the tension in his shoulders melting away to instead form a back stiffer than someone with a stick up their arse.

“I guess it can’t hurt to check it out, the bakery,” Jack says, finally. “Do you have the address, or know the way there?”

“No, but I’ll ask Lindsay for it, I’m sure she’ll be happy to give us a proper tour of the place,” Gavin says easily, slouching further in his seat. These seats are _really_ comfy. “She knows the manager really well, so getting into contact with them should be alright.”

He gets his phone out to message her, only to wince at the time and think better of it.

Though if there’s anyone who’d be okay with random late messages, it’d be Lindsay, whose last message to him was cat memes at 4am the night before. Still, he figures that it’s better to be safe than sorry and message her later.

“By the way, I looked into what we could do about audio,” Jack says. “We can get a microphone stand and some clamps, then mount a shotgun mic to it.”

“Interesting,” Gavin says, because he’d thought about it a bit last night and had come up with something different. “I looked into it a bit too. But what about lav mics?”

Jack shakes his head. “Lav mikes would still be visible on the actors and you’d have to get high-end ones – which we don’t have – to get the quality of a shotgun mic. They tend to pick up on too much background noise, and we’d need to get radio equipment for them. Which is fine, but – I just think that it’d be better to use a shotgun mic with some stands. There’s some cheap ones we can get on Amazon. If we were filming in a car, for instance, we could mount a clamp here,” Jack explains, tapping his hand on the gear stick.

“Sounds good,” Gavin says. He smiles at Jack, impressed that he’s thought about the audio. Most people care so little about it that at this point, Gavin’s just glad if they don’t use the camera’s internal microphone, but Jack has gone above and beyond that.

Gavin pulls up Amazon on his phone. “What shotgun mics do we have at uni?” he asks casually, not expecting Jack to know.

Imagine his surprise when Jack recites a brand, name and model. When he looks it up – yep, it’s exactly the same one they’re using in class, right down to the line number.

“You absolute cheesecake,” Gavin stares at him in disbelief, because _seriously._ ~~~~

Jack chuckles, like he just casually catalogs everything he sees, like those people who remember everything. “What’s the size of it?”

Gavin recites the specs, and Jack quickly figures out what size microphone clamps they’ll need. Before Gavin knows it he’s ordering a microphone clamp and a stand on Jack’s Amazon account, since apparently they don’t have any at uni; none that can fit their shotgun mics or aren’t permanently loaned to the music department, at least. As he makes the order, Gavin notes that they should write the script with these limitations in mind, and when they scout they should look for places where they can mount microphones, on top of everything else they need to look for. Gavin thinks he sees warmth in Jack’s features at that.

There are a few more office buildings that look promising, and they pass by a group of towers near a former nuclear power plant that gets Jack pretty excited, but honestly, Gavin is mostly just enjoying the drive.

It’s the smoothest ride of Gavin’s life; even laden with exhaustion Jack is a wonderful driver. He puts on music at some point – the Beatles, Gavin echoes, and Jack’s soft smile make Gavin’s heart pound in his chest. It’s warm in here; that rare comfy-warm in Austin where it’s soothing rather than stifling. He almost drifts off at one point, only to be woken up by the music suddenly getting louder. Jack’s hand is on the volume dial, turned up, and he gently says that if he’s still up for it, they could check out the side-streets, or they could just head straight over to the parks and Gavin could sleep until sunrise. Gavin murmurs that he’s up for the side-streets, before lightly dozing off again.

Gavin wakes to tapping on his shoulder, and Jack quietly saying, “We’re here.”

* * *

Gavin’s been in Austin for a year, ever since he flew here right after graduation. In that time, he’s filmed a lot of stuff with a lot of people – had to, given the necessity of teamwork and the ‘necessity’ of tight deadlines. Which means he’s filmed on a _lot_ of side-streets, both close to and far from uni.

Jack’s the first person he’s met that knows these streets like the back of his hand.

Oh, there’s pretenders, for sure. The pretentious types who act like they know all about a location when they’d just looked it up using street view on Google Maps the day before. The ones who try and be all big and intimidating and I’m-the-boss-I-know-everything, type. The ones who inevitably end up mumbling, _this place is smaller than I thought_ , or, _that wasn’t on the map._

But Jack moves confidently, speaks with genuine love and enthusiasm as he points out the general geography of the streets; where he thinks camera equipment could go; and to not worry about the cat wandering by, it just likes taking an early morning stroll before returning to the house at the end of the road. As he walks, he’s smiling, and his shoulders are relaxed for the first time since Gavin met him. His eyes have lit up under the yellowing streetlights, casting all that ginger in a soft glow.

Jack asks him for his thoughts on potentially disruptive background sounds like the faintly buzzing streetlights, about whether the gas station down the road would be too bright or noisy, how much power they’d need for extra lights so they can figure out which generator they’d need to bring. Gavin tells him that it’s a nice location. That he’s most interested in shooting on the street leading to the gas station. That the street isn’t too narrow; and the station would make an interesting backdrop and be an overly harsh but otherwise decent backlight for shots. That he can account for the humming streetlights, and that they’d just bring a couple of key lights, as well as a lot of spare batteries and a battery-operated camera. But he tells him that no matter what street they shoot on, they’d only be able to shoot from a few directions since there are houses of all different eras around them, and if cars park on the sidewalk then they’d get in the way of wide shots, meaning they’d have to use a lot more close-ups than prescribed in the brief.

Gavin takes photos of the street, and then they head off to the first park on Jack’s list.

Which is also, literally, the closest park to them, because apparently Jack is a walking map and had planned the side-street route so that they emerged right in front of it. Gavin’s already vocalising specific directions they could shoot from that would flow directly from street to park, and Jack’s more than happy to pitch in. His smile hasn’t faded despite Gavin taking the reins; if anything, it gets brighter, or maybe that’s just the sun starting to poke up in the sky as they make their way through the park.

It’s beautiful. Gavin stops for a moment and just…watches. It’s oddly peaceful here. The birds are just starting to chirp, and Jack’s smile is so warm, and the air smells like freshly cut grass, and the golden sunrays spill onto Jack’s face, making him look…lovely. He fits in well here, so much more than at his cold, detached apartment.

Gavin’s filmed during golden hour before – scouted at golden hour before – but this is the first time he’s actually enjoyed it, where it hasn’t just been exhaustion and too much coffee. For the first time since he came to uni, he remembers why people love golden hour so much; why _he_ loves it. Gavin loves filming with natural light, and golden hour is the best of it.

Jack turns to look back at him, and Gavin quickly turns away before he can notice.

There’s a tall building across the street that obscures the sky, blocking the golden light. On the opposite side, there’s a yoga class off to the side, further limiting possible camera angles. The birds, much as he loves them, might become an issue. Gavin shoots some test videos on his phone, catching a couple of joggers and the tip of Congress in the distance, but they can wait out the joggers and use different camera angles to cut the building out.

The park is a blank slate, so a chase sequence would work well here. Jack points out that parking is plentiful, and the bathrooms are nearby. If they shoot during golden hour, they won’t need to bring a generator for lights, but Gavin tells him that they should bring one just in case, hesitantly pointing out that golden hour doesn’t last as long as people think.

Jack looks at him with new respect after that.

The second park is much the same, and afterwards, they go buy bread rolls from HEB for breakfast and sit at a table in a nearby courtyard. It’s 8am, so Gavin messages his friends in the group chat, asking them for lists of free filming locations, and a private message to Lindsay about filming at the bakery she works at. Across from him, Jack, who had noted who oversaw the side-streets and the parks since they didn’t see any staff, is emailing them for permission to film there.

Geoff replies in the group chat almost immediately.

_Goeff: Gavin, I’m still in holiday mood. It’s only been two weeks!_

Gavin smiles to himself. Some things never change.

_GavinoFree: Aw, Geoffy, won’t you say, “Wow, Gavin’s actually doing okay in a group project this time?”_

_Goeff: What??? Nothing’s come to blows yet?_

_GavinoFree: Okay, first of all, the blows didn’t involve me at all, I was just dragged into taking sides. Second of all, we’re scouting locations right now so if you know any then we could drop in and have a look._

_Goeff: “We?”_

_GavinoFree: Shut up, you mug. It’s just one person, which makes things easier._

_Goeff: It does. But you’re scouting locations already?_

_GavinoFree: Yeah. We agreed that it’d be best if we saw what we could use first and then write the script around it. Which means you, and any places you know._

_Goeff: Right. And who’s gonna write the script?_

_GavinoFree: He is._

_Goeff: …That’s a new one._

_Goeff: Alright. Just be careful that he doesn’t pawn off the script to you when he doesn’t write it because of Bad Excuse number 207._

_Goeff: You can drop by the café I work at, I’m on shift there until one._

Geoff sends a picture of the café, with an address.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Geoff and Jack get on like a house on fire, with their common interests in old-school movies, baseball and rave music from the 90’s. It takes ten minutes to scout the café – it’s too close to the highway and is too small for their equipment – and then the three of them shoot the shit until eleven, since Gavin has classes at noon (“Why do they always put classes _during_ lunch?”).

It’s nice. Gavin jumps onto Geoff’s back as a goodbye, and Geoff finishes drawing a moustache on his arm with the sharpie used for names on coffee cups while talking baseball players with Jack, who’s grinning at Gavin and being deliberately obtuse with Geoff so he won’t notice the cat Gavin’s drawing on his forehead with another sharpie.

It’s only when they get into Jack’s car does Gavin remember that they were supposed to go to the studios at uni to do some camera tests there, which they won’t have time to do since they left so late. But Jack waves him off and says that they can do that another day.

“I uh, thank you for introducing me to Geoff,” Jack says as they hit the I-35.

“You’re welcome,” Gavin says.

He wonders where this is going. The thanks are odd enough, but there’s something both light and heavy in Jack’s expression, like he’s more and less lonely at the same time.

“I don’t really – talk, with that many people,” Jack says.

There’s a bunch of things under that, but Gavin’s not going to pry. “Really, you’re welcome. I’m glad you and Geoff get along.”

Jack smiles. He opens his mouth but then hastily closes it.

They’re half-way back to uni when Jack finally blurts out:

“Are you and Geoff dating?”

“ _What?_ ” Gavin exclaims. “Wha – where did that come from?”

“Which – it’s fine, I mean, I’m – I’m bi, but, um…” Jack turns red and fastidiously keeps his eyes fixed on the road.

“I’m bi too,” Gavin breathes out, staring at Jack with new wonder because _holy shit he’s not straight, and that’s amazing._ “But no, Geoff and I aren’t dating. He likes to joke that we are, but we’re just best friends.”

“Oh,” Jack’s flush deepens, and he nods. “Okay. Cool. Good.” He clears his throat. “It’s just that you and Geoff seem really close, and I thought…”

“Yeah, a lot of people do. It’s cool, though,” Gavin laughs.

When Jack drops him off, Gavin thinks he sees something grateful in Jack’s eyes.

* * *

Lindsay sends ten messages to Gavin before his classes, with every second one being variations of, ‘yes I’ll check with manager’, ‘omg you get along with someone???’ and surprised emoji faces, saying she’ll give them a tour that night after that bakery’s closed. Jack has a meeting for another group project then, but they both agree that they can scout individually.

The seating area in the bakery has just enough space for camera equipment, and the eclectic mix-and-match of vintage, fancy-looking wooden dining tables and chairs means that there are plenty of options for visually interesting shots, which Gavin takes plenty of pictures of to send to Jack later.

The windows are large, which means lighting would be easy if they filmed during the day. But given the long opening hours, it’s more likely they’ll have to film at night, which means having to use the fluorescent ceiling lights here, which are not ideal but not a surprise. And there are plenty of tables for them to mount microphone clamps for sound.

Lindsay brings him to the kitchens as well, because why not? As many times as Gavin has been here, not once has he gone to the kitchens; it’s not like he works there, after all. So when he walks in, he expects them to be small and cramped, because that’s how commercial kitchens typically are.

To his surprise, the kitchen is super spacious – far more spacious than the seating area – to the point where it’s possible to get 360 degree shots if the camera’s set in the right spot. There are LED lights in the ceiling, which makes lighting much easier. There’s a bit of reverb, but it shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

Gavin and Lindsay spend most of the tour cracking jokes and catching up. Lindsay’s been doing a theatre degree, and is currently doing a group project to write a script to act out with the group. She also works shifts at the bakery several times a week, and it’s fun to hear her act out humorous interactions she’s had with customers.

Lindsay then asks Gavin what’s been happening with him, but Gavin doesn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t tell her about Jack, but at some point, the conversation drifts to video games, and Gavin can’t help but think of him. About his embarrassment at having _Trials_ on his TV. His steely seriousness. Of drifting off to the Beatles playing in his car. About how, for the first time, a teammate of Gavin’s is actually putting in effort, and is also listening to him and actively wanting his input. They _communicate_.

Or he thought they did, because two weeks go by without an email from Jack.

They’d emailed each other to follow up on their location scout – they’d agreed to set the story in three locations, the minimum in the brief, or four at most – and Gavin had told him about the office building, reminding him to ask his friends and any local establishments he frequented for places to shoot at. They’d agreed to meet the following week, by which Jack would have written the script, but then other group projects had come up and they’d moved it to the week after. And while Gavin had sent a bunch of pictures and test videos, Jack hadn’t replied. Gavin had even offered to help with the script, but. Nothing.

Just like every other person Gavin has worked with.

So when Gavin knocks on Jack’s door, he doesn’t even know if their meeting’s still on or not.

But when Jack opens the door, all of Gavin’s irritation melts away.

He looks like a mess. Red-rimmed eyes behind his glasses, his hair all over the place. Face sweaty and exhausted. Barely tamped frustration, and deeper circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t gotten any sleep. His eyes widen when he sees Gavin.

“Shit, we have a meeting, don’t we? Come in,” Jack says, stepping aside before Gavin can open his mouth.

When he steps in, his heart sinks.

The dining room is in tatters. Strewn around the room are balled-up pieces of paper, ripped pages filled with crossed out writing on them, eraser bits, and ballpoint ink bleeding through pages onto the dining table. Some of the pages are titled _Script: Partner Project_ but all of them are filled with screen directions, planning and character dialogue about spies and traitors.

He hasn’t been doing nothing. Not at all.

Jack swears before rushing over, stumbling over apologies as he shoves the bleeding pages into an overfilled recycling bin. It takes four tries of Gavin saying Jack’s name before he stops, tight-lipped and turned away from him.

“Jack, calm down, it’s okay, I’m not angry at you. I just – we had a meeting and – well, you hadn’t replied to my email, and I – ”

Words don’t feel right, and even though he and Jack don’t know each other that well, haven’t done anything more than brainstorm ideas and scout locations together, this feels oddly personal. Like he’s comforting a close friend rather than someone he’s just met.

So he moves in front of him and pulls him into a tight hug.

It’s odd, hugging someone who is so much larger than you. Gavin is all skinny, bony limbs – twiggy, Geoff says, or twink, if he’s feeling particularly mischievous that day – and Jack is all big and round and soft and warm, dwarfing Gavin easily. But holding him feels nice.

Jack freezes for a moment, but then he exhales and his arms come up around Gavin to cling to him tightly. “I’m sorry,” he breathes into Gavin’s ear.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Except for working yourself into the ground,” Gavin chides him softly, “I thought – ”

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gavin doesn’t say, _I thought you hadn’t done anything, I thought that you had bailed on the project, just like everyone else._ “I’m not angry at you, yeah? We can figure this out together.”

They pull apart. There are tears in Jack’s eyes, and he tugs off his glasses to rub at them angrily. But the tension in his stance has faded.

“I tried to write the script,” Jack begins. “And I kept getting stuck. I kept going back and re-writing every little thing. Like when the spy and traitor first confront each other, the stakes aren’t high enough. There’s nothing about finding the ‘beauty in the mundane’ other than the flash-drive and the locations used. The characters don’t change enough throughout the story.”

“Yeah,” Gavin breathes out, because _holy shit_ , then curses himself for being crass. “Wait – no, I can’t say that, I can’t make that judgement without seeing the script.”

“No, you can’t,” Jack gives him a watery smile, but it’s clear that he hasn’t taken offence. “But I didn’t interpret it like that, anyway.

“And I – look, I know we’ve only met up a couple of times, but you’re smart. Really smart. Maybe even the smartest guy I’ve met. The way you talk about shooting stuff – the way you _location scout_ – is incredible. It’s not all talk, either,” Jack scoffs wetly, like he shouldn’t be saying this, like it’s too soon. In many ways, it is. “Those test videos that you shot on your phone are better than what most people shoot with professional camera equipment. And we seem to work well together, so I wanted this script to be good.”

Gavin’s head is spinning. He needs to sit down. They both do.

“Let’s go to the sofa, yeah? And just, not think about this, for a while?” Gavin gestures to the balled-up scripts. “Well, we should move everything off to the side first, but then we can go to the sofa? If there’s anything salvageable we can get them out later.”

“But our meeting – we have to keep going, we’re already behind, you have a meeting right after this – ”

“We’re not gonna be able to do anything like this, yeah? Besides, I could use a break. That meeting I have is one for another group project and ugh,” Gavin shudders. “It is not going as well as this one is.”

“It’s not?” Jack sniffles, disbelieving.

“No. Because nobody in the group is communicating with each other. I’ve tried, but – no one replies to my emails. No one sends anything either. The one time we met up – they just, talked all over each other.”

“That fucking sucks,” Jack says as he grabs some tissues and wipes his eyes.

“Yeah, it does. Can’t get a word in.”

“Group projects are – ” Jack tosses a tear-stained tissue across the room. “ – either hell on legs or stress on legs.”

“Both, usually.”

They laugh, Jack’s teary but somehow still _warm_ , and Gavin leads them to Jack’s couch.

“Now, how about some _Trials_?”

* * *

They play Trials Evolution, racing against each other. Gavin deliberately bails into walls at the finish line, flopping his little biker around until Jack’s laughing at his antics. And that’s a new one; it’s more like a _giggle_ – it’s a high pitched, tinkling thing, so joyous and bright that it takes Gavin’s breath away.

They play a few more matches, then switch over to YouTube. Jack laughs when Gavin says, embarrassed, that the only stuff he watches on YouTube are film making analyses and cat videos, saying that’s all he watches too. They end up watching Corridor Crew, laughing when they realise it’s both of their favourite channel. How even now, they can’t stop nerding out about film making.

At some point, they talk about Austin. How Jack grew up here but lives in his own apartment downtown because his family home is far away. How Gavin flew here from England, how he’s grown to love the melting pot of the boiling sun and the people here. How they both love cats, but neither of their building managers allowed pets. Places to eat, sights to see around town.

It’s nice.

They head back to the dining room. Jack tenses when he sees the balled-up scripts, but he sits at the dining table anyway.

They sort through the scripts, putting them in piles based on what part of the story they were trying to cover. Some of them have sketches on them, and Jack mumbles feebly that he tried making the storyboard and shot list while writing the script. Gavin lets out a whinnied noise and chides him for trying to do too much at once; he’s literally writing the script already, Christ. Gavin manages to persuade him to put them in a separate pile, to put them aside and focus on the script. That they can work on the storyboard and shot list together.

“But I was originally assigned to do the storyboard and the shot list,” Jack protests. “I need to do my whole job. I can’t just hand things off to you when convenient or pick and choose my duties.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m offering, so you’re not handing things off. And this isn’t a feature film studio, is it? And I’m not an executive boss. And I’m saying that it’s not worth it if it’s causing you this much stress.”

They stare each other down. Jack’s tense, eyes stubborn and fierce. But Gavin meets his gaze evenly, and finally Jack relents.

“…Okay.”

Gavin gently asks him if anything else is troubling him about writing the script – besides the story, which he’s reading through at the moment – and Jack admits that he’d been trying to visualize the story at the same time with a vision board on Pinterest, whether it would work with what they’ve got. Which is – that’s great and all, Gavin tells him, but it also seems like it’s been stifling Jack’s creativity, given that most of Jack’s balled-up scripts are actually planning and screen directions, listing and re-listing the checklist of shots to make sure they were included.

Gavin suggests that they write the script without thinking about the shots required, because they can always alter the script to fit the checklist of shots, but they can’t edit something they haven’t written, can they? That the only thing they’re locked in is the locations they’ve got available; the office, the park, side-streets – maybe a restaurant, or a warehouse if they’re really lucky, but they can find a replacement for that.

Jack chokes out a laugh. “I’ve been writing the script _around_ specific film techniques rather than the other way around.”

“Huh. Yeah, you have,” Gavin says lightly, smiling at him to reassure him.

“It’s so fucking stupid,” Jack scoffs out something like a laugh. “The whole point of cinematography is to analyse a script and decide how to film it, not the other way around, nor to spend two weeks on a script and produce nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Gavin hums. “It’s quite a lot of somethings,” he gestures to the four stacks of paper in front of them; script, planning, screen directions and storyboard with shot list. “It would have been nice if they’d let us collaborate with a screenwriters’ class, though.”

“Or a sound recordist,” Jack says. “Speaking of which, the microphone clamps and stand should be here tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

Once Gavin finishes reading through what Jack’s got of the script, they talk through the bits they both like and decide to build on that. That’s all they have time for, though, because Gavin has that group meeting for another project, but that’s fine. With Jack’s attentiveness and the two of them working together, Gavin’s confident that they’ll get a script out in the next few days. They arrange to meet up again a couple of days later after uni and then Jack walks Gavin to his door.

“Hey, Gavin?” Jack calls out just before Gavin leaves.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For today,” Jack gives him a little nod, and Gavin beams.

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Another two meetings that week, and they finish off the first draft of the script. They’ll need to edit it, but now they’ve at least got a full script to work with.

Just as Gavin’s about to leave, he remembers something.

“We’ve only got two filming locations,” he says. “Do you happen to know anywhere we could film? I’ve asked all my friends, and most of the places I’ve seen aren’t suitable.”

“Well, we’ve got the bakery and the park,” Jack says. Then he bites his lip before adding, “I’ve scouted a place that we could film in – there’s enough space, the lighting is okay, there’s space to set up audio – but I don’t think that we can use it.”

“Sure we can,” Gavin challenges, because they’ve got to try, right? “Try me.” And when Jack doesn’t say anything, Gavin adds, “No matter how ridiculous it is.”

“It’s a restaurant,” Jack says in a rush, after a moment’s hesitation. “But we’ve already got a restaurant. Well, it’s a bakery, but they’re pretty much the same thing, setting wise.”

“Not if they look different. What kind of place is it?”

“It’s a barbeque place. Rudy’s. It’s a rustic kind of place, with lots of wooden wall panels.”

“That’s different enough,” Gavin hums. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah, but…” Jack sighs. “ _Two_ – what is essentially – restaurants in the same short film? I don’t think the markers will be happy with that. The whole point of the assignment is to film in a variety of locations, which I assume also means different _types_ of places, not just three restaurants or something like that. And story-wise, it doesn’t make much sense to have a spy story set in so many restaurants.”

“I’m sure there are movies out there with like, ten different cafes in the same movie. But I see what you mean,” Gavin says. “Hmm…”

It takes him a minute to think, and to Gavin’s surprise, Jack actually gives him that time to think. It seems like everything Jack does surprises Gavin somehow.

Then it comes to him.

“What about the kitchens, in Lindsay’s bakery?” Gavin says. “When I scouted it, I remember that there were these giant kitchens in the back.”

“Wouldn’t it be the same as filming in the kitchens of Rudy’s?”

“Not unless Rudy’s has tons of cake ovens and nothing else, no.”

At this, Jack nods, breathing out a whoosh of air strong enough to be an airbender. “Okay, then. We can try filming at Rudy’s. Gavin, I – ”

He pauses, giving Gavin an odd look. His eyes have taken on this shiny look now. Is there…something _fond_ to it?

Gavin has no idea.

“What is it?” Gavin tilts his head to the side in contemplation.

Jack blinks quickly. The shininess in them is gone now, but they are much softer than they usually are – less tense, Gavin thinks.

Then Jack shakes his head and says, “Nothing. Nothing bad, anyway.”

And with a satisfied hum, Jack goes back to the dining table and resumes packing up his stuff, which he’d left to languish in a messy pile to walk Gavin to the door.

“I’ll let you know when Rudy’s gets back to me. By the way, would you be willing to come scout it out with me?”

* * *

Two days later, they have lunch at Rudy’s before their scout.

During lunch, they talk about other things, like video games and movies. After they finish their food, Jack goes to the bathroom and while he’s gone, Gavin looks around for lack of anything better to do, noticing the décor for the first time.

There’s a neon sign of Texas. A widescreen TV on the back wall. Signs of beer logos on rustic wooden wall panels at the drinks bar. Framed pictures of sports teams and signed baseball shirts. Flags of different countries hanging from the ceiling. Soft overhead lights, fluorescent but otherwise charming. Communal dining tables with red-and-white checked tablecloths and plastic folding chairs. The sizzling of steaks in the background, though that’s not décor. Even with almost no-one here, it’s still lively and vibrant. Like finding yourself after being lost.

Like the spy discovering there’s more to life than just money.

“We could film in here,” Gavin rattles off when Jack comes back. At Jack’s confused look, he explains, “I was just thinking – we’ve been having trouble trying to differentiate the two restaurants from each other; other than using the kitchen for one and the seating area for the other, of course. So how about we have different types of scenes in each restaurant? The spy and traitor could have confrontations in here or in the bakery – maybe in the kitchen there, cos it’s got more space?

“It’s not like we can use all the locations we scouted anyway,” Gavin adds. “Like that side-street, since we can’t control whether cars park there or not. And we need somewhere for confrontations, doesn’t have to be a warehouse we can’t get. Then we can have some scenes here – well, in whatever other restaurant we get,” Gavin hastily corrects himself because he can’t just _assume_ that they can use specific locations until they get confirmation.

“That’s fine. We’ll still reference the weapons stores but we won’t show them explicitly, then. But if we’re using the kitchen in the bakery for confrontations, what scenes were you thinking of having in the other restaurant?”

“Maybe have the spy speculate, or something?” Gavin says. Then a light bulb goes off in his head. “What if we have the spy watch the traitor interact with a waiter, and the traitor is all happy and stuff, and that’s how the spy realizes that there’s more to life than just money?”

Jack thinks it over. “That sounds good. Maybe we could have the spy confront the traitor as well?”

“Maybe not confront, we have that already,” Gavin says, because there are a couple of confrontations between the spy and traitor already and he doesn’t want to overdo it. “Maybe we could have the spy question the traitor about their motives for betraying their agency instead?”

“Great,” Jack nods. “If we keep it to just dialogue, then we won’t have to film a chase scene, which makes things much easier production-wise.”

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll ask the owners for permission to film here on the way out. Why do you like this place, specifically?”

“I like the look of it. All rustic and friendly and homely. With all the stuff on the walls it feels unique but familiar at the same time.”

“Sounds good. We’ll have to get clearance to use all the artwork here, but we’re using this for a university project, not for public distribution, so it should be fine.”

And that’s that. They scout out Rudy’s – only just big enough for camera equipment, but the owners offer to let them film there for free as long as they film after-hours, and Jack had brought the paperwork, which they sign then and there – and then they go back to Jack’s place and start re-writing the script.

Now that they’ve got the first draft to guide them and switched the warehouse location to a restaurant, re-writing the script only takes them a couple more meetings. Gavin reminds Jack not to get preoccupied with storyboards or shot lists or vision boards until they’ve finished the script. Jack sometimes glances over at the pile of storyboards on the dining table, but he leaves them be and they keep going with the writing.

The day after they finish the second draft, they edit it over Google Docs during their respective breaks between classes.

Jack sends him back the final script that night, saying that he’s happy with it, and that he’s done a ‘script breakdown’. In Gavin’s experience, that could mean anything from ‘annotated with ideas for set dressing’ to ‘I re-wrote the script’.

But when Gavin opens it up, he’s met with the final script, except that it’s colour-coded and broken down into strips. It’s coded for each of the elements of the film, Gavin notes faintly as his breath catches, with a different colour for props, costumes, cast members, extras, stunts – with a list for each category at the bottom for each scene and the strips grouped together by location. He’s _actually_ done a script breakdown _._

They’d agreed during their last meeting that once the script was done they’d write up their own shot lists individually and then compare them. Over the week, they do so over Zoom; it’s easier to edit the shot list over Cloud together that way, and this way they can squeeze in meetings late at night, long after meetings for other group projects have wrapped up.

Jack’s version is far more detailed than Gavin’s, or any he’s seen before. It includes all the shot specs - shot size, angles, framing, focus, camera movement and a description of the shot. Gavin double-checks it against the project brief, and everything required is in there…in the same order as the brief, which – yeah, Gavin has no idea how Jack managed that. Gavin points out that the shots don’t have to be in literally the exact same order listed in the brief, and he points out some things that Jack had overlooked – mainly certain camera angles that wouldn’t work in the location Jack’s used them in – but other than that, their shot lists are pretty much the same. They run through the shot list from end to end, make a couple of minor changes, and the shot list is done.

After that, Jack gets to drawing the storyboards while Gavin refines Jack’s vision board on Pinterest. Jack’s pinned a _lot_ of stuff; he’s very thorough, but there’s so much there that it’s hard to tell what he was going for specifically, like highlighting all the words on a page. Now that they’ve got the script and shot list, it’s mostly narrowing things down, which is relatively simple.

What emerges is a collage of modern and rustic, cool and warm, of barren offices with computers, of cozy restaurants, of open parks bathed in golden light. It feels like it’s coming to life already, and Gavin’s suddenly grateful to Jack. He doesn’t regret putting it off – in fact, it might have been the thing that saved it – but the vision board really is helpful. The few times they’ve come up in other projects, it’s mostly people dumping images of whatever they watched on TV last week rather than anything relevant to the project. Or worse, the vision board is the first and only thing they do the entire project.

Gavin lets Jack know that the vision board is done, and Jack emails him the storyboards, and after checking that they’re all good with both, that’s it.

And as Gavin goes to bed that night, his mind races. It feels like they’re on the home stretch even though they haven’t even started filming yet. The project has been just as intense as it’d been suggested in the brief – more so, Gavin thinks, remembering the tattered scripts in Jack’s dining room – and he knew from the start that working with just one person would either be the best or worst thing ever. If things keep going the way they do, Jack will be the best person that Gavin has ever worked with. Might already be.

Jack communicates more than anyone Gavin’s met. He’s caring. He’s considerate. He _tries_ He cares about all the little details. He works hard. This project – _he_ – has been a refuge amongst other shitty group projects, and he wonders what it would be like, spending time with him outside the project like they did at Rudy’s. Of learning more about him, about his life in Austin. Of playing more video games together.

But it feels like everything is moving too fast, and there’s still a long way to go, so he pushes those thoughts aside in favour of going over all the things they need to do before shooting.

Script is done, budget is none, crew is just them, shot list is done, storyboards are done, location scouting is done, actors will be needed, paperwork needs to be finalised, shooting schedules will be figured out once they get the actors, cameras and lighting and sound gear will be rented from uni, props and costumes will be from the theatre department, and craft services and catering – other than Rudy’s, because Jack had worked out a deal there – will be snacks bought from Costco and takeaway from fast food places nearby.

Gavin emails him about actors and paperwork, and over the weekend Jack sends copies of signed location agreements, permits and uni-provided insurance forms. Nothing about actors, though. They can’t do anything else until they know who will be in it – schedules and such – but it seems crass to ask about it over email. Gavin could wait to ask him when they meet up next week but that’s a week they could spend finalizing equipment and shooting schedules.

So the next day, Gavin decides to ask him during their lecture.

* * *

The lecture’s not compulsory, so Gavin doesn’t normally go to it – he prefers to watch them online – so he doesn’t even know if Jack will be there or not. But sure enough, Jack is waiting outside the lecture room. There are a few other students, talking in a group, but Jack is standing away from them, alone. He’s watching them, something wistful to it.

Gavin doesn’t have time to process it because Jack lights up the moment he sees him.

“Hey, Gavin!” Jack grins.

Gavin rushes over to him without thinking, but Jack seems to have had the same idea, because suddenly they’re skidding to a halt in front of each other and holy shit that’s nice aftershave. Gavin’s heart starts pounding at how close their faces are, at the flushed look on Jack’s face that surely matches his own.

If this were a movie this would be where they do close-up shots, intercutting between their wide-eyed faces –

“Excuse me,” someone says.

They jump apart. The someone walks between them, and Gavin faintly registers that it’s the lecturer – Gavin recognizes his voice from lecture recordings – and that they were standing right in front of the doors to the lecture room.

Gavin’s cheeks heat, but Jack’s already heading in, so Gavin follows him.

Jack makes a beeline for the aisle seat in the front row. Once seated, he pulls out the fold-away desk, which is barely big enough for a MacBook let alone anything else. As Gavin sits next to him, Jack swears, puts the desk back, gets a notebook out from his bag then pulls the desk back in front of him. As he does so, Gavin notices that the edge of the desk is pressing against Jack’s round stomach and oh God he didn’t even think about that, and he subconsciously sucks in his own stomach in response. Gavin curses when Jack notices before he can look away.

"I'm fat," Jack says so matter of factly that Gavin’s mouth drops open.

"Um – I,” Gavin stammers, looking for something to say. “You’re not. I mean, if they’re gonna make us deal with these tiny desks then they could at least give us more room,” he says, because that’s true if nothing else.

"At least this one's left-handed," Jack sighs as he writes the date at the top of the page with – well, his left hand. "Some lecture rooms don't have any, and the ones that do only have them in the aisles.”

Gavin looks around the room and sure enough, all the desks in front of the other students are right-handed except for a couple in the aisles.

“Wait, aren’t like, ten percent of all uni students left-handed?”

“Yeah. It makes it pretty shit in exams."

“That’s well awful.”

“Mmhmm,” Jack hums easily.

“Why the front row, then?” Gavin asks, because he can’t do anything about getting better desks.

“I listen better when I’m at the front,” Jack says, giving him a rueful smile when Gavin raises his eyebrows at him, because Jack needs to do stuff to be serious? “It’s also the only row where the left-handed desk is guaranteed to be free because no-one wants to sit here.”

That makes sense. Jack is a Good Student, unlike Gavin, who only attends the last lecture of each subject for final exam tips and 'watches' the rest online while strolling on the treadmill with Michael and Jeremy at the uni gym.

Then the lecturer starts talking and Gavin curses under his breath when he realises that he forgot to ask Jack about actors for their project.

They're in the front row, so they can't talk without the lecturer hearing them. He can’t email him since Jack didn't bring his laptop. They’d exchanged phone numbers the other day but he doesn’t think it's a good idea to try to secretly text each other, especially not under these tiny college desks, though he’s more concerned with the dirty look Jack’s giving him as he goes to pull out his phone. Gavin mouths _sorry_ at him, and Jack nods before turning back to face the lecturer.

Gavin takes one look at the lecture title and promptly turns away. It’s on white balancing for different light conditions, which he and Jack had already done during their camera tests weeks ago.

Jack’s intently focused on his notetaking, but Gavin needs to ask him now, before he forgets again.

He curses internally when he realizes he didn’t bring anything with him to write on; he thought he’d be able to just ask and leave before the lecture started. With someone more easy-going, he’d just nab their notebook and write notes to them, but he doesn’t think Jack – who has carefully ruled his page for Cornell note-taking – would appreciate it.

He gently taps his finger on an empty section of Jack’s notebook and once he notices, Gavin whispers into his ear, “Can I borrow some paper from you?” And once Jack carefully tears out a page with a raised eyebrow, “…and a pen? I need to ask you something,” Gavin explains as Jack’s expression shifts to exasperation, even as he hands a spare pen over.

Gavin writes a note on the borrowed paper and hands it over.

**We need actors for our project. Know anyone who could be in it?**

Jack stops writing and stares at the note. His eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights, which is. Not encouraging. Maybe Gavin didn’t make himself clear enough? He grabs the note back and adds:

**Friends? Classmates? Anyone?**

Which – yep, definitely sounds insensitive, he thinks after he hands it over, since Jack’s face doesn’t change. This is why Gavin didn’t want to ask this over email, or write it at all, really. He snatches the note and scribbles on it again.

**They don’t have to be professionals or anything. Could be people down the street. Or people who live in your apartment building. Just having them as extras is fine.**

Jack bites his lip. This time, he hovers his pen over the note. Finally, he writes something down and hands it back to Gavin.

**_Ask me again during the break._ **

Gavin furrows his eyebrows, because that’s vague, isn’t it? But Jack’s already turned back to his note-taking, so Gavin decides to wait.

The moment break rolls around Gavin turns to him. “So, do you know anyone who could be in the film?”

Jack purses his lips, studiously avoiding Gavin’s eyes. “Not really. Do you?”

“Yeah, I have some friends who do theatre. But I don’t want the cast to just be people I know.”

“Thanks, but…” Jack trails off.

“They don’t have to be young, either,” Gavin says hastily, pausing awkwardly when Jack looks up and raises his eyebrows at him. “If you. You know. Were worried about that. Your friends – they’re probably all mature aged students, right?”

Because maybe Jack’s friends are all mature aged students and he’s worried they might not fit in with Gavin’s friends, who are, for the most part, young at heart and not as straight-laced as Jack is. He wouldn’t be the first person that Gavin’s worked with who’s worried about something like that.

“They would be, yes,” Jack says evenly. His face is blank but his eyes are too calm, too stilted.

Too hollow.

That’s when it hits him. The wistful way Jack had watched the group of students chatting outside the lecture theatre. How he’d been in the car when they were driving back to uni after visiting Geoff. _This._

“Jack…um, if I’m being insensitive, stop me. But…you don’t…have friends?”

Jack laughs, dark and bitter. “No.”

“But – you’re so _nice._ I mean, surely – mature aged students? People down the street? In your apartment building? In your other classes? In _this_ class?”

Gavin looks around the lecture room, because maybe Jack did know someone here but they had a timetable clash for the computer labs, which was why they hadn’t worked together for the project in the first place. He notices two groups of people around Jack’s age, clumped together with the other students in the back; the ones who hadn’t left during the break, at least.

Nodding at the first group, he says, “There’s a group of mature aged students right there.”

Jack follows his gaze, then shakes his head. “They don’t play video games.”

“And the other group…”

“Are all married with kids.” Jack gives him a tight smile as he explains, “Most mature aged students are. Or they don’t play video games, or if they do then they only play first-person shooters, which I’m terrible at.”

“And the younger students…” Gavin trails off, even as he knows the answer, just based off how Jack is as a person.

“I can’t relate to them. I don’t watch any of the movies or TV shows they do, and they don’t know a thing about mine. I didn’t come straight out of high school. All the things in life they care about go over my head. I’m too boring and old-fashioned to them,” he says the last part with bite, and Gavin’s heart clenches.

“Oh, I never thought about that…” Gavin says, because he hasn’t.

Making friends isn’t easy and he tends to latch onto people and annoy them until they like him, like a fungus. Mature aged students stick out like sore thumbs at uni, and he can’t imagine how much harder it would be for someone so reserved – and _different_ – like Jack. Where even the other mature aged students didn’t like him.

There’s a clear divide between mature aged students and school-leavers. Mature aged with mature aged, school leaver with school leaver; for friendships and group projects. Before he kept getting burned by them, older students had always seemed surprised that Gavin was willing to work with them without having to be asked by lecturers. But he’d never given it any thought.

He imagines Jack feeling that same apprehension and cringes at the thought. Because – well, hadn’t Gavin been snippy at him, back when Jack had asked whether they could work together or not? He can imagine what assumptions Jack must have jumped to: that Gavin hated mature aged students, just like many school-leavers actually do. He needs to apologise for giving off that impression, to explain why he’d been like that.

Jack deserves that. No matter how things end up going down on set (because you never really know what someone is like until you work with them on set, do you?).

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. Jack considers him, seeming to realise that he means more than just for how he doesn’t have friends even amongst the older students. “That you don’t have any friends. But also for being so snippy at you when we first met. I didn’t mean to give off the impression that you were – I don’t know, too old, or old-fashioned, or – ”

He’s fumbling his words again, but Jack waits, patiently.

“I’ve just…worked with a lot of bad people,” Gavin finally manages to say. “People who don’t care about the projects we have to do.

“I don’t – I don’t want you to think that your age matters,” Gavin continues, trying to go over all the things he told Geoff, back when they first became friends and Geoff was struggling to make other friends. “It doesn’t. You can still make friends and stuff. You can still work with people. You just have to find people who understand.”

“Like you?”

Gavin gasps, because Jack sounds so. _Earnest_. He’s smiling, like he didn’t just literally put all his cards on the table.

Gavin’s head just. Blanks out.

He must have stayed silent for too long because Jack hums thoughtfully and leans back in his chair.

“I accept your apology. And it’s okay, Gavin. You don’t have to say anything. About any of it.”

Part of him wants to. Wants to tell him of all the times he’s worked with mature aged students, good and bad. All the people he has met. Of all the ways Jack has been literally the best teammate Gavin has ever had. But that would be jumping the gun.

“Thanks,” he says, instead. It feels inadequate, somehow, but Jack accepts it.

They settle into relative silence as the rest of the students wander back in. The lecturer comes back in, too, and that’s when Gavin remembers something.

“When I asked you during the lecture, whether you knew anyone. Why did you say, ‘ask me later’? You could have just said no. I would have accepted it. Or – well, that’s not right. I would have double checked with you, just to make sure. But I wouldn’t have forced you to like. Rally up people or something.”

Jack hesitates, then admits, “Most people don’t accept it when I say I don’t know anyone. They think I’m just pretending. I also didn’t know how to tell you over email. What could I say, ‘No, I don’t know anyone?’ I…wasn’t sure if you’d believe me. Other people haven’t.”

“I mean, it would have been an answer at least,” Gavin says, because until then, Jack had been avoiding the question.

“That’s true.”

“What happens, then?”

Jack shrugs. “Usually they don’t ask again, but sometimes I’ve had to say that all my friends are ‘busy’.”

Gavin’s eyes widen. “So having me keep asking you…”

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you the truth. I just – couldn’t get it out. Doesn’t matter anyway,” he chuckles darkly. “You figured it out.”

“I’ve been around a lot of mature aged students,” Gavin says gently. “Geoff was the same way.”

“He was?” Jack asks skeptically.

“Yeah. Most people don’t want to talk to tattooed ex-roadie gamers, as it turns out,” Gavin laughs about it now, but it’d been a tough thing at the time. “I worked with him on a group project my first semester here. He said I was the first person to approach him in the two years he’d been here.”

Jack’s eyes widen. “I imagine that would have been nice for him. What subject was it?”

“Editing. For writing,” Gavin adds at Jack’s furrowed eyebrows. “He does a journalism degree. That’s probably why he’s not in any of your classes. Wait, what degree do you do?”

“Film degree, producing and cinematography,” Jack answers. “What about you?”

“Film degree, cinematography but also photography. Switched to it after a semester in an arts degree.”

They talk about that for a bit, but then they fall into silence again. The lecturer is still setting up the next batch of slides.

“I wanted to ask you because I thought it would even things up if half the cast were people you knew and half were people I knew,” Gavin says, because it’s still bothering him.

“Thanks Gavin,” Jack smiles at him. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Gavin smiles back.

Then he comes up with an idea.

“Hey, um. I could introduce you to all of my friends, if you wanted? Once we’re on set? All of them are like Geoff – well, they’re mostly my age, but we all play video games and stuff. Not just shooters, either.”

Jack beams at him. “Thanks, that’d be lovely.”


	2. Principal photography

In retrospect, everything on set happens in a blur.

But Gavin doesn’t know that at the time. This is how things go.

Lindsay and Jeremy are happy to be in the film, even after Gavin tells them that most of them will be after-hour shoots at night due to location availability. The day after, the four of them meet up in a group study room at uni to do a readthrough of the script, bringing snacks to keep it casual.

They don’t have time to do anything but the readthrough, so Gavin doesn’t really get the chance to introduce them to Jack, but it’s still nice, even as jarring as it is to see Jack being such a consummate professional – more like a studio exec than a uni student – now that he knows exactly how he laughs.

A week later, they meet up again to do a rehearsal. On Jack’s suggestion, and with Lindsay’a and Jeremy’s permission, Gavin films it as a test run of blocking and performances.

It’s incredibly useful, Gavin finds, as the four of them watch the playback together. Lindsay’s testing different deliveries of the dialogue with her voice acting chops, and is much more relaxed than she’s been during other projects of Gavin’s she’s been part of; she’ll end up telling him later that it’s because Jack’s the first person since Gavin to not expect the script to be fully memorized in a night. Jeremy is pouring over the storyboards – which Jack had brought along, something Gavin never would have thought to bring – and he chimes in with suggestions about how he can help the camera capture more footage for the story. It feels like they’re already on set and everything is meshing so well.

Gavin can’t afford to get complacent, but he’s proud of them all and it feels like things are coming together.

After that, it’s time for final arrangements. They confirm locations with everyone and arrange to pick up costumes, props and all their equipment from uni the afternoon before their first night of filming. Jack makes up the shooting schedule and call sheets, which Gavin sends to Lindsay, Jeremy and the rest of his friends – who will be extras – and receives a lot of thumbs up in response.

The day of, Gavin manages to cajole Jack into sneaking out of the lecture with him five minutes before it ends– he’d insisted on staying even when Gavin had continually pouted at him during the break that _they could leave earlier, it’s not compulsory, it’ll be online later_ – and soon enough they’re giggling their way to the theatre department to pick up costumes and props. Lindsay, whose already there, helps them carry everything to Jack’s car, then they head over to the uni gym to meet up with Jeremy. For some reason, Lindsay insists on getting Jeremy by herself, leaving Gavin and Jack alone to wait outside.

While Lindsay’s gone, Jack laughs over how this is the first time he’s ever left a lecture early, and Gavin teases him for being such a goody two-shoes. Jack grins, and the air feels light as they talk about other things.

At some point, Lindsay bounds over with Jeremy in tow. Jack tells everyone to wait while he goes and picks up all the equipment they’ll be renting, and none of them are having it. Lindsay practically shoves Jack out of the way to march over there herself, and Jeremy uses the distraction to slip by Jack as well.

Gavin grabs his arm and asks him how he thinks he’ll carry multiple lighting stands, reflectors, microphones, microphone stands _and_ their camera in only two hands, and huffs when Jack says something about parking closer to the uni rental place – in other words in the busiest parking on campus which never has parking – and making multiple trips for everything since he couldn’t find a trolley to carry everything at once.

They run into Lindsay and Jeremy halfway there; Jeremy’s carrying the microphone stand and clamps, while Lindsay’s carrying the lighting stands. They seem to be having a competition going for how many arm curls they can do while holding the equipment. Gavin laughs at Jack’s incredulousness, saying that they’ve both carried this stuff for Gavin before so nothing would be damaged, even as Jack protests over how _this is a two-person project, Gavin, we can’t get anyone to help, can we?_ But he’s grinning wide as he says it, so it’s clear he’s not really upset about it.

Jack ends up grabbing the tripod before Jeremy can get to it, and Gavin rolls his eyes but lets him load it into the back of the car along with the rest of their equipment.

And suddenly, they’re saying goodbye to Lindsay and Jeremy – for now – and driving over to Lindsay’s bakery where they’ll be filming that night.

They’re silent on the way over, both wrapped up in thought. Suddenly Gavin is hit with jitters. Are they going to get all the shots they need? What if the equipment doesn’t work when they get on set? What if they run out of time? Do they have everything – they have everything, Jack triple-checked that they have everything, including the script, shot list, storyboard, paperwork, extra SD cards for the camera, plenty of snacks as crafty, and Gavin’s suddenly incredibly grateful for how meticulous Jack is. What if their ‘game plan’, as Jack has put it – for shots, lighting and sound – falls apart?

The usual jitters before a shoot, heightened with the memory of so many terrible student film sets that Gavin has endured in the past, and, oddly enough, the feeling of pressure. Like Gavin has to do well, has to put his best foot forward, because Jack has put so much into this, and Gavin doesn’t want to let either of them down.

When they get there, Lindsay and Jeremy show up soon after. Lindsay runs in to unlock the shop and emerges with cupcakes she made while working that afternoon, which she bribes Jack with so he won’t unload the car. Jack looks over at Gavin, who grins at him encouragingly, and Jack turns back and takes the cupcake. True to his word, he lets Gavin, Lindsay and Jeremy unload all their equipment from the car into the kitchens, where they’ll be filming.

And soon enough, Gavin is rushing around, setting up lights as Jack walks the space and sets up the camera. Jack points out a few unique angles that they could shoot from that Gavin hadn’t noticed before, and they agree to shoot those angles for additional coverage once they’ve gotten master shots and full coverage as per their storyboard and shot list. Gavin’s weak hands can’t handle the microphone clamps, but Jack smiles at him as his strong hands attach them easily, all between setting up the flash-drive prop and dressing the set. Gavin wires up the shotgun mics, sets up the audio recorder and then he’s doing a final sweep of the room.

To his surprise, there aren’t any odd reflections across counter surfaces like there usually are, and Jack says that he’d asked Lindsay to turn off the lights in the main seating area nearby because they were creating unwanted reflections off of the shiny metal counters. He smiles when Gavin’s eyes widen in shock because like, holy shit, Jack’s attention to detail is just – unparalleled.

They call Jeremy and Lindsay over to level out their audio, who have emerged from the bathrooms in their costumes, and that’s when Jack calls Gavin over for something. When he asks, Jack says that there’s a noticeable hum in the background. Surprising, since all Gavin remembers about sound during his scout is that there was a bit of reverb. But once he listens to the test audio, it’s very noticeable, so if they can they’ll need to fix it immediately.

It turns out that the six fridges in the kitchens are responsible for the humming, and also for the ‘reverb’ that Gavin had heard during his scout weeks ago. After some discussion, the four of them mutually decide that it’s okay to move the few things in the fridges into the coolers at the back and then turn the fridges off.

After that, it’s time to shoot the film.

They fly through it. Lindsay has lots of theatre experience and Jeremy’s great at improv, so even if they hadn’t rehearsed they would’ve done really well with the script – had, in the past, when Gavin had been forced to write the script at the last minute for other projects because the supposed ‘screenwriter’ didn’t write anything – but they’re nailing their lines, getting everything in three or four takes. They’re filming a confrontation between the spy and the traitor and it’s exciting stuff. Their movements are so fluid, and Gavin is swept up in it as he and Jack watch everything in the viewscreen of the camera. It feels a bit like they’re making magic, and for the first time in a long time, Gavin remembers why he came to film school in the first place.

Jack guides them through the scene, starting with master shots then shooting from wide to close-ups, followed by inserts for the edit, and Gavin’s more than happy to follow through with camera and lighting setups. Jack’s instructions are clear, concise and focused, with diligent reference to the storyboard and shot list.

Jack is so focused, and amidst the chaos of adjusting all their equipment, Gavin can’t help but watch him sometimes. At the intent, focused look gets as he’s blocking a scene, talking things over with Jeremy and Lindsay. How they pitch in with contributions of their own, and how Jack looks surprised but listens to their suggestions.

They end up filming a couple of different versions of the confrontation. Again, Lindsay and Jeremy nail their takes, and luckily the microphone clamps don’t get into the shot – though they got close, Jack points out at one point and with that, the first scene here is done.

The second scene they’re filming here is also in the kitchen, but they’re using it as a fake for where the spy gets their orders, by using a couple of the counters up against the wall as ‘desks’ and facing the camera to the wall, away from all the ovens, to try and make it look like they’re not in a kitchen.

But that’s the issue. With the shiny metal countertops and bright LED ceiling lights, it’s still fairly obvious that they’re in a kitchen. It’s something Gavin hadn’t expected – he’d come up with the filming-in-kitchen idea after scouting this place, and he hadn’t had time to scout it again – so he and Jack try a bunch of things to make it not look like a kitchen.

First, they grab some tablecloths from the back – Lindsay’s suggestion – and chuck it over the counter. But all of them are circular instead of rectangular like the counters, are way too small, and keep slipping off the smooth counters, so that won’t work.

“Maybe we could turn off all the lights and re-light the scene?” Gavin suggests.

Jack bites his lip. “We have those light fixtures from uni, but they shine really harsh light that would reflect off of the metal counters as well, so I don’t think we can do that…”

Gavin considers it. “I think you’re right. All those light fixtures are fluorescent, yeah? So they’d glare off of the counters. But that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to gain from trying it out anyway. Could learn something from it, give us extra inspiration.”

Jack’s staring at counter intently like it’ll be able to tell them something, but eventually he nods and says, “Okay. It’s worth a try.”

They have two light fixtures, which they try putting in various places. First with them just behind the camera, but the light is too harsh. Then they try putting them on the other side of the room, which removes the reflections off the counters but unfortunately doesn’t disguise the fact that they’re in the same kitchen. Then they try putting them on either side of the counter but just off-camera, which –

Huh.

Gavin had suggested that they try the lights there on a complete whim, just to cover all bases. There’s something a little less harsh about where they’ve placed the lights, so he gets Lindsay, whose playing the spy getting orders, to face the camera and lean back against the counter, just to see what it looks like.

Turns out that each light perfectly hits each side of Lindsay’s face, resulting a shadow forming at the peak of her nose. He asks her to say some lines and – yep, just like he thought.

The mix of light and shadows mean that Gavin can just see her lips move. Which would be great, but the lights still illuminate the rest of the kitchen. If only they could flip it, so that everything was dark except for her nose. That way, her lips would be clearer on camera…

Gavin asks her whether there are any other sources of light available. She looks surprised, but she says that they have some lanterns and candles that they use for people who want romantic lunches, and once she’s brought them out, Gavin does some testing with it.

He’s halfway through setting up the candles when he realizes that he hasn’t gotten Jack’s input at all, and he glances over at him, horrified at how Jack’s going to react.

Normally Gavin’s ‘teammates’ have ten million criticisms about lighting, especially his. And running off to do his own thing without a teammate’s input is not just bad teamwork, it’s unfair to whatever they might suggest.

He’s fully expecting Jack to start yelling at him, and he suddenly wonders why he hasn’t already.

But Jack isn’t…his face is oddly neutral, and for the first time since he met him, Gavin can’t read what he’s thinking. He’s not angry, or tense, but he’s not necessarily happy, either. It’s more like he’s observing, as though Gavin’s a lecturer demonstrating something to a class.

They stare at each other for a long, long moment. Jack’s expression doesn’t change. Gavin’s hand is frozen, hovering over the candles, not daring to move.

Then Jack blinks rapidly, as though suddenly snapping out of a daze. “You can keep going,” he says hastily. “I just – I was. Interested.”

Gavin waits for a moment, for the inevitable other shoe to drop, but it doesn’t. Jack starts giving him that neutral look from before, but there’s more curiosity in it now. There’s something _stable_ about it too, something steady to it, and that’s what ultimately buoys him into going back to setting up the candles.

Once he’s done, he lights the candles and Jack turns off all the kitchen lights. Lindsay stands in front of the counter again and Gavin does a test shot.

Everything is dark except for her nose and lips. Once Gavin switches to a wider lens, her lip movements can be seen on camera.

Gavin thinks it over out-loud, hoping to get Jack’s input, saying that it’s not perfect, but they can make it work; sure, facial expressions can’t be seen at all, but it’s not like facial detail is necessary to convey the point of the scene. That as long as lip movement can be detected it’ll be clear that they didn’t just film a black screen and nothing else.

Jack watches the test footage back several times, muttering Gavin’s explanation to himself each time. Gavin explains himself further, specifically the process by which he came up with this and why their light fixtures from uni wouldn’t work in this situation, and after another re-watch of the test footage, Jack nods.

It’s getting late, so Gavin, Jack, Lindsay and Jeremy decide to take a break for crafty, which is also their dinner.

Jack moves to stand away from them but Gavin drags him over, starting to talk about Trials and Assassin’s Creed, the latter of which they’d talked about when they’d had lunch at Rudy’s, and soon the four of them are talking about that, particularly the story mode in Assassin’s Creed Odyssey. Lindsay also gets Jack smiling with a bunch of jokes, and they bond over baking – Jack makes quite the fine cinnamon roll as it turns out – and Jeremy and Jack bond over Doom.

After dinner, it’s very quick to film the scene since they’ve already set up everything, including the candles. And when they watch the footage back, Jack looks up at Gavin with something like appreciation.

It’s 1am by the time they’re done. But that’s okay, since the sound’s all good, the lighting’s all good, and they have several takes for the edit. Gavin hasn’t had all three of those things from a shoot in – he can’t remember anymore.

They’ll be doing an overnight shoot tomorrow – a couple of scenes at Rudy’s, and if they have time then they’ll shoot at golden hour at the park – so they’ll need all the sleep they can get. If it doesn’t work out – the schedule is very tight – they’ll just have to come back to the park on a different day, which is totally fine; Jack had planned the schedule accordingly, and that alone exceeds expectations of the typical filming schedule.

Gavin sends Jeremy and Lindsay home – despite their insistence to stay and help pack up – and Jack tries to drive Gavin home first then come back and pack up everything on his own, which he won’t have at all. Eventually, Jack relents, though he does have to help Gavin with some of the cables when he accidentally gets tangled up in them.

In Jack’s car, they watch back the dailies, and they’re as good as Gavin expected them to be. It’s honestly a relief, that everything they set out to capture that night is in the can. Jack drops Gavin off at his place, telling him that he’ll empty all the files from the camera’s SD card onto his computer and sync the takes they’d chosen with the sound. Gavin nods, reminding him to get a good night – well, morning – sleep and all that. And as Gavin goes to bed, he can’t help but think that this went way, way too well.

* * *

Rudy’s is a whole different ball game.

When they get there, they’re met with plates of barbeque on one of the long tables and a coffee machine, courtesy of the deal Jack had made with Rudy’s. The restaurant has finished business for the night and the kitchen staff are cleaning up, but they’ll be gone by the time everyone’s finished dinner and they start filming.

Gavin and Jack are the first ones there, so they start unpacking the car, but soon enough Lindsay and Jeremy – along with Geoff, Michael, Trevor, Matt, Alfredo and Fiona, who are the extras – turn up and, despite Jack’s protests that _yes, we’re allowed to move the furniture around, but we can do it ourselves_ , they help them unload the car, move furniture around and dress the set, because somehow they’d gotten the storyboards even though nobody had been sent them except for Lindsay and Jeremy, both of whom give sly grins and refuse to answer who’d sent them to everyone else.

Five minutes later, they’re done, and _that wasn’t so hard, was it Jack?_ Gavin teases him lightly, and Jack huffs but smiles at it and then everyone’s heading over to the food.

Gavin tries to get Jack to come over and have dinner with everyone else so that he can meet them properly, but Jack wants to go over camera and lighting setups again with just the two of them, so they do. They’d already pre-blocked the scene, pre-setup shots, done camera tests and recorded the rehearsal, so it’s quick work. The film’s basically already made, so all they have to do is get in there and actually shoot it.

Everyone finishes dinner, and it’s time to get to work.

They’re indoors, so they can control a lot of things, but the fluorescent lighting is one thing they can’t. The kitchen at Lindsay’s work had flat-paneled LED lights, so they hadn’t needed to white-balance there, but like all fluorescent lights the ones in Rudy’s give off strangely tinted light. They’d figured out during test shoots that their camera is high-end enough that they can adjust white balance from both blue to orange and green to magenta, so Gavin adjusts the white balance accordingly, finishes setting up lights, then goes to set up the sound.

Same procedure as last time, but he mounts the mics closer to the actors because the fluorescent lights hum too. Sound blankets would have been nice, Jack comments lightly as he sets up the camera, but they’d both agreed beforehand that this was one thing that they’d have to compromise on since it was just the two of them and they already had to handle so much equipment. Even without sound blankets, the audio levels are fine, and they’re ready to go.

At first, it’s going great. Jack looks at the storyboard, tells Gavin what shot they need, then Gavin lights the shots, they get the actors in, they test the audio, they film the shot, and Jack draws a red circle around it and calls out the next shot. It’s important that they’re efficient; they’re shooting a key scene involving a lot of wides where the spy watches the traitor interact with the waiters, then a dialogue-heavy scene where the spy questions the traitor about their motives for betraying their agency.

But at some point, it feels like they’re moving through shots too quickly. Sometimes Jack will bite his lip as he watches the scenes back, like he wants to say something, but then shakes his head and calls out the next setup instead. When Gavin comes over and tries to help, Jack shoos him away, and it’s demoralizing to see him so stiff-backed and wary. He tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard not to when he gets even more closed off.

Just small things. Like how his eyes are fastidiously fixed on the camera as it’s rolling, something a little too hyper-vigilant in it. How his lips are downturned when talking with the actors, no hint of the warmth that had been there the other night. How it seems like he’s not really there, is just rush-rush-go-go no-time-to-even-think-of-trying-new-things. How there’s something too frantic in how he’s adjusting the camera.

And suddenly, Gavin’s hit by all the fears he’d had about Jack in the first place. Uptight, pushy buzzkill who refuses help at all costs, but he shoves them away because he can’t do that, he can’t lump Jack in with his past teammates like that –

– and then Lindsay misses a line for the fourth time and Jack’s abruptly calling cut for the third.

Gavin runs up to Jack and taps him on the shoulder. He jumps but turns to Gavin immediately.

“Jack, can I talk to you? Alone?” Gavin whispers in his ear.

Jack freezes. Gavin tries to communicate with his eyes how serious this is, how _necessary_ this is. Jack’s shoulders are rigid, but he must have seen something in Gavin’s expression, because he sags and nods, telling the actors to take a break before following Gavin to the backroom.

Once they’re alone, Gavin turns to him. “What’s up with you?”

“There’s nothing up with me. What did you want to talk about?” Jack’s face is carefully blank, but it’s clear from his eyes that he _knows_ that something is up, he just doesn’t want to say it.

“About you, you mug. You’re rushing through setups. And I get it, we have to be efficient and quick and stuff, can’t just sit around and do nothing for a bunch of hours or whatever. But you’re frowning at the playbacks and interrupting takes the moment someone messes up a line.”

“The playbacks are fine, I’m just reading too much into things **.** And – sorry, I’ll stop interrupting takes. I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

“Thanks. But you’re not reading too much into things, you know you’re not,” Gavin says. “Even though you’re not letting me see the clips, we _both_ know you’re not.”

Jack bites his lip, and Gavin gestures towards it, because that’s the _exact same bite lip from before_ , and seeing this, Jack sighs.

“It’s fine, I’ll just fix it in post,” Jack waves a hand at it, and Gavin’s eyes bulge.

“ ‘I’ll just fix it in post’? Really, Jack? _Really?_ ” Gavin echoes disbelievingly, because they both know that it’s the most over-used ‘solution’ in the filmmaker’s book, and Jack knows it too, if the exasperated look he gives him is any indication.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, actually,” Gavin says. “Look, the way I see it, is: why rush it? You’ve noticed problems in the footage, _in camera_. If we can’t fix it in-camera, then of course that’s fine, we’ll handle it in post. But correct me if I’m wrong here, but we’ve been moving through setups so quickly that we haven’t even had the chance to consider whether we can fix it in-camera in the first place.”

“Because we don’t have time!” Jack snaps. “We need to get this _done_ , we need to film at the park, we need to get there before the joggers turn up, we can’t intrude on the actors’ time either, we need – ” he chokes out something like a scoff, and then he falls silent, eyes downcast.

“Jack,” Gavin breathes out. “ _Jack_. We don’t have to film the park scenes tonight, and the owners are letting us film here all night. Even if we had to film at the park tonight or pack up early, there are other ways to pick up the pace rather than not giving yourself – not giving _us_ – the time or chance to fix problems in-camera first or talk it out.”

“Like what?” Jack says it with steel, part-question, part-challenge, part to see whether Gavin is just giving him empty platitudes.

“Like, we can condense some of the shots. Maybe we don’t need the masters; we could just use OTS shots, and then adjust them so we don’t need to do close-ups either, like maybe moving the actors so they’re more in the frame of each other’s OTS shots. We’ve already got close-ups from other scenes, and even if we hadn’t we could put them as top priority to film at in the park scene later.”

“And if we couldn’t film anything other than the top priority shots?” Jack says, something steely and firm to it.

“Then we’d talk about it at the time and condense things as best we can to make sure we get all the shots in the brief, even if it’s just one take.”

Jack meets his eyes, and Gavin tries to communicate supportiveness and assuredness. He hopes he does okay.

“What I’m trying to say is, if we can fix it in-camera, why don’t we fix it in-camera, rather than rush it and hope things come together in post?” Gavin says.

Jack hesitates, and Gavin nods at him to continue. “The actors; they’re your friends, not mine, and I don’t want to intrude on their time – it’s so late already.”

“They chose to be here, and we gave them ample notice,” Gavin says. “They set the time aside to do this. If we need them for longer than scheduled then yes, they more than have the right to say no. We’d have to work around it, but we could find ways to do it, and we’d talk about it first.

“Besides, it’s not like it’s helping, rushing through things, is it? And for what? Stuff that none of us are happy with.”

“Oh,” Jack breathes, and finally he relaxes. He looks sheepish, now, and he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “That makes sense. Thank you, Gavin, for setting my head straight. I got tunnel vision and just – jumped through things.”

They talk things out. Gavin reminds him that they do have time to get things right – as much as they can in-camera, at least – and while they obviously don’t have infinite time, there’s no sense in rushing it. That they need to make sure they get sufficient coverage first.

Jack admits that he typically gets preoccupied with fine tuning details like the placement of specific props, and it’s cost him in post-production for other projects. In an act to counteract that, he’d done the opposite – rushing through everything – instead. Gavin nods, saying that he’ll keep an eye on him for that and tells him that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a nice finished film or speeding through making it, but they have to figure out what’s important and what’s not, and to not sacrifice what’s important just for time’s sake and nothing else. Jack agrees with him, and he says that when they get back to work, they’ll do it all together.

After that, they both agree to take a breather. They both need a break.

“I just need to be alone right now. Could you…would you mind explaining it to the others? I don’t – it’s not that I’m afraid of them, though I am,” Jack lets out a harried chuckle. “But they’re your friends, not mine, and I think it would go down better if you told them.”

“Of course,” Gavin nods.

He gets it. It’s intimidating being a director around so many strangers, even more so when they’re much closer to the one person you do know rather than yourself. There have been too many times on set where everyone has hated the director because they’ve turned into a total jerk the moment they have to tell people what to do. But Jack has been so great – despite the stress of it all – and Gavin’s more than happy to help.

“Thanks,” Jack says. “And I’m sorry I got overzealous about everything.”

“No, it’s good, you’re passionate,” Gavin says, giving him a smile. “Just need to watch out for the tunnel vision, that’s all.”

He reaches over and squeezes his arm, then he leaves him alone.

Back in the dining area, everyone else is waiting for him. Fiona reaches him first, asking him whether he needs her to whack Jack into next week and Gavin assures her that while he appreciates the offer, it’s not needed in the slightest.

Halfway through, Lindsay turns up, and before Gavin can ask her, she’s already telling him that she’s okay. She says that she’d already seen that Jack was very stressed, and though she’d been put off by his sudden abruptness at first, she’d realized during the break that it wasn’t directed at her personally.

“It doesn’t help that we’re pretty much all strangers to him,” Lindsay says contemplatively. “I think when it was just me and Jeremy it was okay, but there’s, what, eight of us now? And he only really knows you. And he has to direct all of us.” At this point, she shrugs. “I think if I was in the same situation, I’d be terrified. You couldn’t have gotten any of his friends involved to make things a bit easier on him?”

Gavin grimaces, and shakes his head. He feels sad, suddenly, at how _he’s_ the one Jack’s probably closest to, a stranger he just met a few weeks ago, only together because of a partner project. He wants the world for Jack – he deserves it – but he doesn’t know how to give it to him.

Lindsay’s gazing at him intently right now, as though she already knows everything he’s thinking, everything he hasn’t said, and she places a hand on his shoulder. It’s with a smile that she says, “You’re a piece of shit, but I’m glad he has you.”

Something about that makes Gavin feel good, but he won’t stop to think about that for too long.

After that, Gavin calls everyone over and explains it to them.

He explains that they had rushed through shooting clips due to limited time, meaning that some clips had technical issues with them, and that they would probably need to reshoot them to make sure they’re okay. That Jack tends to get preoccupied with little details but that he’ll keep him on track for that.

Everyone is supportive of this, and Jeremy – the sweet guy he is – says that he’ll keep an eye on Jack too. That he’s also familiar with getting so wrapped up in it that you become the project instead of just part of it. And he can do that, Lindsay says, but not if she gets to Jack first.

Gavin’s heart swells with pride at his friends, how they’re willing to unquestionably pitch in to help someone just on Gavin’s word and a couple of hours in that person’s company. He really does have the best friends in the world.

Jack comes back fifteen minutes later, and when he does, he gives Gavin a tentative smile before calling him over. Jack points out that some of the footage is a bit shaky even though the camera has been mounted on a tripod, and that other bits of footage don’t quite have the focus they want or the exposure is a bit off. It turns out that they’d filmed on a bit of unsteady ground, hence the shaky footage, and adjusting the reflectors and switching the lenses fix the exposure and the focus.

They take the time to condense the shots as Gavin suggested. Jack had suggested they do this as a test run so that if they need to do so while filming at the park they can do it quicker then. It would also help reduce clips they need to re-shoot at Rudy’s, and if they actually have more time then they can shoot more angles and experiment with it knowing that they have sufficient coverage. It’s quick work, and the break gives everyone time to breathe.

Things are much better once they start filming again.

With the revised plan, everything quickly falls into place. Gavin keeps an eye on him, and Jack relaxes more, and at different points Jeremy and Lindsay chat with Jack. Both of them must say something about it because at some point in each conversation, Jack smiles and glances back over at Gavin, though for what reason Gavin’s not entirely sure.

At one point, Gavin notices that Jack’s spending a minute too long adjusting the way someone is holding a glass, and gently tells him that he’s fine tuning things too much. Jack thanks him and he moves away from it. Gavin does this a couple more times – mostly when Jack is trying to maintain continuity between shots in terms of the wall art – but other than that, Jack accepts Gavin’s help like before. And the rest of the night rushes by in lights, wires and shots.

They’d decided to film at Rudy’s the entire night while talking things out in the backroom, and it’s definitely paid off. They’d taken their time but hadn’t stagnated, getting a bunch of different angles and plenty of coverage for the edit. Lindsay and Jeremy had been given the room to improvise, both of whom had given an equally wide range of performances that would work really well.

Most of Gavin’s friends had left early – they’d re-filmed the wides and inserts with them and then sent them home – but Michael and Geoff had stuck around to keep everyone company. It’s nice to chat with them between takes, but it’s mostly short conversations because Gavin’s busy adjusting lights for the next setup or checking up on sound.

At six in the morning, it’s a wrap for the night. Not bad at all, considering they came in at ten and started filming at eleven. Everyone helps pack up the gear into Jack’s car, and as they do so, Jack takes Gavin aside.

Jack thanks him, admitting that Gavin had been right and that he’s feeling much more at ease. Jack steps forward, as though going to hug him, but then stops himself, and the moment’s broken. Gavin lets him know he’s glad that he could help, that things turned out alright, and to sleep well over the next couple of days – as much as he can in the chaos of uni – before their final day of shooting on Friday morning.

* * *

Filming in the park is a breeze. They arrive early enough that nobody is there, and they have plenty of time to set-up. They’d brought all their gear along with a generator, plenty of spare batteries and SD cards, and Jack had even picked up sunscreen and bug spray which, while unnecessary – the park being completely urban and not rural – was appreciated none-the-less, and Jack’s thoughtfulness boosts the good feeling on set by quite a bit.

Gavin tells Jack not to wait until the sun reaches its best peak during golden hour, and to just start filming. It’s a good idea; golden hour is shorter than expected due to the extra clouds in the sky. Jeremy and Lindsay nail their lines and the chase scene in only a couple of takes, and they end up getting everything they need right as golden hour ends. They still have to film exteriors of some places they’d found around the city, but principal photography with actors is done.

Afterwards, Gavin and Jack go back to Jack’s place and empty the files onto Jack’s computer – he makes copies to several hard drives, one of which he gives to Gavin – and then the two of them meet up with everyone else in the courtyard at uni to celebrate. Gavin finally gets the chance to introduce Jack to everyone properly over coffee and bagels, and as expected, Jack hits it off with everyone.

Jack and Geoff had already gotten along, Gavin knew, and Lindsay and Jeremy had met him a few times. Lindsay steers the conversation to video games, which Jack is more than happy to talk about. Soon enough there’s an argument about the driving controls in GTA and whether it’s better to play first-person shooters on PC or console; Alfredo and Fiona are firmly on the PC side, Michael, Matt and Geoff are firmly console, Jeremy and Trevor are in the middle and Lindsay is firmly on neither, she’d rather just play Mario Kart.

Gavin cracks a few jokes and is delighted when he manages to coax a few chuckles from Jack. It’s always at the oddest things; he’ll make a joke he put a lot of effort into and Jack won’t react, but then he’ll say some little thing that he puts no effort into at all that sends Jack into a spiral of giggles. His eyes are soft, shoulders relaxed as the tension he’s been carrying while filming wanes bit by bit. He looks tired, but a good kind of tired.

The feeling is mutual. There’s nothing more satisfying than calling it – at least, all the stuff with actors and audio in it – and hanging out with his friends afterwards, and it’s nice to see Jack fitting in so naturally, like he’s always been part of the group.

* * *

They’re filming a time-lapse of Austin, overlooking the I-35, when it comes up.

It’s the last of the exteriors and establishing shots they need to film. They’d already gone to the former nuclear power plant, lit up blue in the night, but none of the other buildings had worked out; unless they wanted to film guerilla-style, which both of them firmly didn’t.

So here they are, on the side of a highway, huddled together against the fall chill on the bonnet of Jack’s car overlooking the I-35. After having take-away coffee (Jack had grabbed three pods of milk and three sachets of sugar for Gavin which – was honestly so sweet of him), they’d done some test shots to find the most interesting angle, then dialed in the camera settings, done the maths for how many shots to take – Gavin had let Jack handle that, because Gavin and maths don’t mix – and then they’d begun the time-lapse.

The camera has a built in intervalometer, so they don’t have to manually time the shots out, but they take turns checking the camera every few minutes to make the sure the battery is good, the card isn’t full and that the camera hasn’t moved on the tripod.

Jack comes back from one such check, sitting close to him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, and that’s when he asks:

“So, what else have you worked on?”

“Sorry?” Gavin asks, looking over at him. They’d been quiet for a couple of hours in a comfortable silence.

“I was just thinking about it, and we’ve nearly finished this project,” Jack begins.

“We have, haven’t we,” Gavin says. Jack had mentioned on the way here that he’d edited most of the film over the weekend, that he’d just need to add tonight’s clips to it and then they’d be done.

“And I was wondering what else you’ve worked on,” Jack adds.

“What do you mean, like other uni projects, or – ?”

“Outside of uni,” Jack says. “I’ve edited most of the film and I can tell you right now that you’re way too good at cinematography to not have had experience outside of uni.”

“I haven’t, though,” Gavin says, a little shamefully. It’s one of the things he doesn’t like talking about, how he hasn’t had essential work experience in the field. “Wouldn’t be at uni if I did, would I?”

Or at least, he wouldn’t have flown to Austin on an impulse if he had.

Jack stares at him, then seems to accept it. “What did you do for your other uni projects, then?”

Jack looks like he’s genuinely interested in the answer, but Gavin doesn’t know how to tell him that everything he’s made is completely mundane.

“What films did you make? What did you learn from them? I mean, you picked up your skills from somewhere, surely,” Jack continues, and Gavin gives him a confused look, because learning? “You’re a really good cinematographer; you know what you’re doing. I looked over the footage and all the shots you planned barely require anything to be fixed in post. It’s like you knew exactly what would make things easy on the edit and then shot them in-camera.”

“I just did it a lot,” Gavin says, because that’s the only answer he has. “Got a lot of group assignments, and I usually do the cinematography for it.”

Whenever they didn’t give him a battlefield promotion to director or producer or screenwriter because those people just didn’t show up, or if they didn’t shovel him aside to do the cinematography themselves, or both, that is.

Jack stares at him, like he’s waiting for Gavin to say more, but there’s nothing much else he can say, really.

“What were they about, the films you made?” Jack asks.

Gavin shrugs. “The usual. Hands slamming alarm clocks, people running around, that sort of thing.”

Now that he thinks about it, he can barely remember most of the films he’s made. He can remember the lenses he used, the types of reflectors he set up and sometimes the lights he used. But other than that…

“I don’t really remember,” Gavin says. “They’re on my computer, so I can get them out and stuff. But usually all I know about a project is that I need to film this thing and make it look good.”

Jack stares at him in disbelief.

“Most people don’t care about a coherent story, or coherent anything, really,” Gavin adds. “Usually I’m just glad I get given shit that I can do – like moving lights around and stuff – or whenever people are willing to meetup for stuff.”

“So, you just…picked stuff up, as you went along?”

“I guess so,” Gavin replies, because that’s the only thing he could have done. “Why are you asking?”

“I just like talking with people, about what they’ve learnt in the industry, the things they’ve picked up,” Jack says lightly. It’s too easy, like he genuinely thought Gavin would have something to offer. It’s all the things Gavin had thought film school would be and suddenly he doesn’t like it.

“All I’ve learnt is student film clichés and how bossy people can get,” Gavin says, more resigned than he’d intended. It’s too much like disillusionment, of dreading going to a set because he never knows if any of the crew would actually show up, much less get even one usable clip after seven hours on set, and then the camera batteries need to charge up.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, giving him a sympathetic look. “Still, the more you do it, the quicker you get at it, so it’s not all bad.”

“Yeah. And it’s okay,” Gavin says, because none of this is Jack’s fault. “This project is the first time it hasn’t been like that,” he adds, because Jack needs to know that.

“That’s good,” Jack’s lips upturn in a small smile. “Once you break into the industry, I’m sure you’ll get to work on bigger projects that’ll really test your cinematography skills.”

He says it earnestly, like Gavin’s success is a certainty, and Gavin has no idea what to say to that.

“What about you, what other projects have you done?” Gavin finally asks, latching onto Jack’s mention of industry.

Jack nods eagerly. “I worked as a first assistant director on a short film over the summer,” he begins, emphasizing the position, and suddenly all Gavin can think of is all those students bragging about the extra work they did, and he’s steeling himself to hear the same story all over again, from the one person he had grown to not expect something like this from –

But Jack speaks about the project with reverence. It was a piece about a house near a forest, he says, and he talks about how admirable all the people on set were. About how crafty was a top priority, about how they had an experienced sound recordist who showed Jack the importance of good sound and the difference between shotgun and lav mics. About how he’d go to lunch with the crew and ask them all sorts of questions about how their equipment worked; the more technical side that he didn’t get privy to as a first A.D. . How the generosity and flexibility of the cinematographer showed him that there are many ways of getting good shots without shelling out excessively on gear.

It’s beautiful, the way he speaks of it, and Gavin wants to be like that, to be so appreciative of a project. He tells Jack that, and neither of them know who’s more surprised by the admission.

Thing is, Gavin has spent too long being burnt and jaded from shitty group projects, getting wrapped up in the motions of it all; start project, not know what’s going on, turn up on set, film random thing, repeat. But when working with Jack – and hearing him speak about the stuff he’s done – it’s easier to remember why he came to film school in the first place.

It’s about telling stories, about using film as a form of self-expression for the things its creators are burning to say.

Jack tells him that with every project he does, he keeps a production journal, including for uni group projects. That he learns something new with each one and writing it all down is his way of keeping his feet on the ground.

“What have you learnt from this one?” Gavin asks, without really thinking about it.

Jack gives him a considering look. Gavin stares back at him, thinking _why did I ask that, that sounds vain, doesn’t it_ , but he’s interested to see how Jack will answer.

“How to think on the fly,” Jack says. “How to keep my head on straight, how to prioritise and condense shots, different ways to light people. Using light to silhouette subjects; I’ve never seen that before, and the effect it produced is beautiful. I’ll have to show it to you in the film before we submit it.”

“Wow,” Gavin marvels, because now that he thinks about it, all of it is true. And now that he thinks of it, he’s learnt a lot from Jack too. “I’d love to see it. But I’ve learnt a lot from you too. That being organized is so important. That all the little things like paperwork and crafty and triple-checking we have extra SD cards is just as important as getting good shots. That communicating is important. I’ve worked on so many shitty projects that I’d forgotten what it’s like to actually talk with someone.”

“That’s good. I’m glad,” Jack smiles at him. There’s warmth and softness in his features, and suddenly the moment feels too intimate, through the points of contact where they sit thigh to thigh, shoulders pressed together. “I suggest that you write it down. It’s good to remember these things. It’s easy to get lost.”

Gavin hesitates, then pulls up the Notes app on his phone and jots it all down, because why not?

It’s a lot, when he reads it, but all of it is true. Maybe making films is worth it yet, he thinks, catching Jack’s smile in the corner of his eyes.

“Never learnt this much from a group project,” Gavin lets out a short laugh, putting his phone away. He’s suddenly overcome with the urge to lay his head on Jack’s shoulder, but he doesn’t want to make Jack uncomfortable. “Got plenty of war stories, though.”

“Want to tell me about them?” Jack asks softly.

His eyes are gentle and bright, and so, so beautiful, and their faces are so close as the wind whips around them. He doesn’t move away, and Gavin realises that if Jack’s not comfortable with it, if there’s something wrong, he’d tell him, or stiffen up, or something. That they’d talk things out. They’ve worked together long enough to know that, at least.

So he shuffles closer to Jack, just a little thing to test the waters. When his shoulders remain slack and he doesn’t shrug him off, Gavin hesitantly lays his head on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack puts his arm around him almost immediately and pulls him closer. They take a few breaths together, getting deeper with each one, puffs of air drifting away into the night. Gavin sags into Jack’s broad shoulder, into his warmth and solidness, and it takes him a minute to remember what Jack had asked him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs into Jack’s shoulder. “But only if you tell me yours too.”

Jack breathes out, and Gavin is hit by the smell of late-night coffee and the slight scratch of Jack’s beard as he rests his cheek on Gavin’s head. Out here, under the night lights of Austin, things feel easier, lighter, and Gavin wishes this night could last forever, the two of them out here together.

“Of course,” Jack whispers, just as softly. “But I’d like you to go first. So, what’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened on set?”


	3. Post-production

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thanks to everyone who has commented and kudoed, and hope you guys enjoy the last chapter =).

They end up staying there until sunrise, sharing stories. Laughter, a lot of it, as they regale tales of woe, and sympathy at all the times they’d gotten screwed over by their ‘teammates’, whether that be by no-showers or no-planners or only-pushy or all of them.

At some point, Gavin had wrapped his arms around Jack’s torso to snuggle closer to him, and Jack’s arms had enclosed him in a warm, comfortable embrace. At another, Gavin had closed his eyes, drifting off to the steady beat of Jack’s heart under his arm, and he’d awoken to the Beatles playing out of the tinny speaker on Jack’s phone and his thumb on the volume button.

Gavin laughs at the absurdity of it, at how it was exactly like the last time he’d fallen asleep in Jack’s company, and the way Jack smiles at him makes his heart pound in his chest. They untangle themselves from each other, and it hits him that neither of them had checked the camera since they’d started sharing stories.

The camera had remained steady the entire night and the SD card is only half-full, so it’s fine, and they both heave sighs of relief. Still, Gavin doesn’t think either of them would have minded coming out here again; they’d been too comfortable resting their heads together, and checking the camera again would have interrupted the easy air between them.

They swing by a Waffle House for coffee and breakfast then Jack drops him off back home. Gavin crashes until dinner hours, because screw lectures that aren’t compulsory, he needs his sleep.

He wakes to a text from Jack, asking whether they can meet since he’s completed the first version of the film and he wants them to watch it together. After double-checking the time and day, he stares at his phone incredulously, because if Jack’s completed the film then that means that he stayed up all night filming the time-lapse, drove them back afterwards, _and_ edited the film without getting any sleep. So, he texts him back:

_Gavin: Get some sleep, you mug._

_Jack: Are you available to watch the film or not?_

_Gavin: I am, but only after you’ve gotten some sleep._

There’s no reply for a while, and when ten minutes go by with nothing, Gavin puts his phone away. Hopefully that means Jack has taken his advice and gone to sleep.

Gavin has dinner in the neighboring residence hall, then goes to the editing rooms to work on an assignment for another class. It’s two in the morning when he emerges, only to be met by a text from Jack.

_Jack: Sorry, I fell asleep. When are you next available?_

* * *

Editing is usually a necessary evil. It’s tedious, time-consuming work. Usually it’s a get in, sync audio, sync video, get out kind of situation, and people only truly care about the editing when it’s bad.

Jack thinks differently.

He asks Gavin all sorts of questions he’d never really considered. Like whether the shots chosen progress the story; when to show things that need to be shown – the flash-drive, mainly – and when to withhold them; whether key elements of the film stand out enough; whether the intended emotions of the film come through.

To him, it’s not just about _is this palatable_. To him, it’s _does the story flow well_ and _are the shots too long or too short_ and _does it communicate our ideas the way we intended it to?_

Until now, Gavin hadn’t known that there _was_ so much to editing, even though he’d taken a video editing class last year. They’d done a lot of green-screen then, and how to name their folders for ease of collaboration.

But Jack is both sharp and patient, and soon enough Gavin is pointing out some changes they could make; mostly in the order of the shots, and of some light color correction to make the flash-drive appear more vibrant as the film goes on. Jack keeps track of continuity, and he ensures that they have everything required in the brief.

Four hours later, they finish editing the film. They export it, submit it for marking, and upload it to Vimeo as required.

Afterwards, they open their uni emails and in their inboxes, there’s a confirmation receipt saying _Thank you for submitting your Major Project for RTF 343D – Cinematography._

They’re done.

They’re finally fucking _done._

Gavin can hardly believe it. He lets out a whoop.

“Shh, don’t wake the neighbours!” Jack whispers, but he’s grinning, so he can’t be too upset about it.

“It’s only midnight – never mind, it’s two in the morning,” Gavin says loudly then quietly as he looks at the clock on Jack’s oven.

Jack giggles, and soon Gavin’s giggling too.

“I can’t believe we’re done,” Jack breathes, reclining back in his chair, shoulders coming down as his grin widens. “We _did_ it.”

He says it with such wonder and pride and joy and suddenly Gavin wants to dive into Jack’s arms to celebrate.

“Can we hug?” Gavin asks it impulsively, before he can lose his nerve.

Jack’s eyes brighten and his smile gets impossibly wide. He stands up and opens his arms. “Of course.”

Gavin runs up and jumps into his arms. Jack scoops him up with his strong arms and Gavin throws his arms around his neck. They cling to each other, and at one point Jack lifts him clean off the ground. Gavin lets out a surprised noise, then laughs, letting himself get swept up in Jack’s embrace. It feels good, like a celebration; not just the end of something, but the start of something new.

Eventually, they pull apart, though their arms linger around each other. Gavin tilts his head back to look up at him, and Jack is beaming down at him.

“Let’s celebrate?” Gavin murmurs.

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Want to go to Waffle House?”

Jack pulls back, tilting his head to the side, giving Gavin a considering look. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Gavin’s about to ask again, but then Jack grins and says, “You know what? Fuck it, why not.”

They giggle their way to Waffle House and sit down for crumpets. Jack makes a joke about Gavin and _crumpets and tea and biscuits, how posh,_ and Gavin teases him about his shitty northern English accent and that if he really wanted to be accurate he’d need to do a southern English accent instead.

They end up talking about British TV shows, and when Gavin finds out that Jack hasn’t even watched Monty Python yet, he insists that he show it to him, it’s _essential_ watching. That just because they’ve finished the project, doesn’t mean they have to stop meeting up. That meetups can become hangouts instead, that they could become friends if Jack wants them to.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’d love to, but what about hanging out with your other friends?” Jack bites his lip.

Gavin’s about to reply but at the last second, he sees Jack shake his head a little, like he wants to say something more, but is holding it back. So Gavin waits.

“You don’t have to – Gavin, it’s okay, you don’t have to hang out with me or anything. The project’s over; you’re not obligated, you know that, right?” Jack continues. “I don’t – I don’t want your pity.” Jack swallows, suddenly looking very unsure of himself. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hang out with me just because you know I don’t have any friends.”

“It’s not that,” Gavin says firmly. “It’s not _just_ that, at least.”

He thinks of a night in the cold, of blue lights, of the city skyline. Of telling stories into the night. Of all the times they’ve talked in Jack’s car, of all the chats they’ve had about non-project things, and how he wants more of that.

“I want to hang out with you. I want get to know you – well, more,” Gavin begins. It’s hesitant, full of apprehension, but Jack watches him steadily, wide-eyed. Gavin is about to say more – explain himself more – but suddenly the words dry up on his tongue, and now he’s opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Yeah, I just. Want to get to know you more,” he finally fumbles out.

It’s inadequate, but that’s all Gavin can manage for now.

“Okay,” Jack breathes out.

Under the fluorescent lights of Waffle House and the exterior of a dark morning, Jack’s eyes are open and honest and soft, lips upturned in a smile. Gavin wants to reach out and cup his cheek but knows that he can’t – or rather, he shouldn’t.

But he vows to himself that he’ll show Jack just how lovely he really is, and he’ll do that by being his friend.

* * *

They watch Monty Python in Jack’s apartment after uni, then Jack shows him some old school comedies. It’s not Gavin’s type of humor at all, but he’s riveted in how Jack talks about all the actors, the behind-the-scenes stuff, how sitcom lighting all looks the same because they use a multi-cam setup rather than single-cam.

They move onto movies, a mix of good and bad, and during a bad one Jack notices that a mic got into the corner of a shot, and it quickly descends into them critiquing everything about the production of the bad movies, from bad cinematography to bad editing to random mic packs on actors’ belts.

They game, too. Jack turns out to be just as meticulous in video games as he is in real life, and they end up playing Minecraft split-screen, with Jack going off to build houses and Gavin bringing creepers with him to blow them up. Jack curses up a storm at him, and Gavin just giggles, scurrying away as Jack’s character whacks him down a mine shaft.

It’s not all messing around though; they race to see who can complete the extreme levels in Trials Rising first, and Gavin delights in Jack banging his controller against the coffee table – if he’s not falling off the level himself, that is.

They play other games too, and Gavin finds Jack to be a fairly serious person who prefers building and farming but is more than happy to go on adventures with Gavin whenever he asks.

One night, as Jack drives him home, they talk about how Gavin ended up in the dorms, and what he likes about living there. The convenience of food, the rec room, how his dorm building is next to the editing and production suites. Jack says that it sounds like a nice experience, and that’s how Gavin asks him whether he’s ever lived in the dorms or not. Jack tells him that he hasn’t, had never even applied for them, because he didn’t think he’d ever fit in. Gavin ponders it out aloud, saying that the dorms are mostly filled with first-years straight out of high school, so while it would have been more difficult, there still could have been a chance that he would have found people he could be friends with, people who would have understood.

There’s something extra distant yet wistful in the way he looks up at Gavin’s residence hall when he pulls up next to it that night, and when Gavin asks him about it, he says that he’s never been inside the residence halls either, not even on an open day. That sometimes he wonders what it would have been like to get that part of the college experience; whether he would have spent time in the rec rooms, whether he would have talked with the people here. Whether he really would have made some friends if he’d decided to just go for it despite his misgivings.

Gavin tells him that he still can if he wants to. But Jack shakes his head, saying that he would probably withdraw into a shell if he tried now because everyone is so different to him, and that he enjoys living on his own. Gavin understands that, but Jack’s eyes linger too long on the pool table, the widescreen TV and the sofa in the rec room, and that’s when he comes up with an idea.

The next time they hang out, Gavin invites Jack to the rec room for a game of pool. After clarifying that Jack – who is definitely not a resident of the dorm building – is allowed in after-hours, Jack is more than happy to come over.

They play several games of pool together to the TV playing music videos, a mix of 90s and modern music. Gavin barely knows what the hell he’s doing and Jack Strategizes, grinning at Gavin as he masterfully sinks yet another ball, to Gavin’s increasing disbelief.

At some point, one of them starts singing along to one of the songs on the TV, and after that it descends into terrible karaoke as they play another game. It’s just the two of them, everyone else having gone out to the bar downtown for drinks, and the rec room comes alive under Jack’s deep timbre and the chink of pool cues hitting balls as they crow out _Mr Blue Sky_ together. They laugh a lot, and at some point, they put down their pool cues and start dancing goofily around the room together. Gavin does all sorts of idiotic moves, and it’s worth it for the way Jack cracks up laughing at every single one.

Gavin doesn’t think he’s ever had so much fun in his life.

Eventually, everyone comes back from the bar. Michael, his boi and roommate, and Fiona, who rooms with some first-years, stride in, and their grins are way too devious for Gavin’s liking. Still, it’s a good chance to re-introduce Jack to them, but soon enough it’s time for Jack to go back home. Gavin asks him whether he’d be up for gaming sessions with the rest of the group in the rec room, and Jack seems surprised, but says that he’s okay with it.

There’s a bit of apprehension there, a similar kind to how Fiona was when Gavin first introduced her to the rest of the group. The kind where someone wants to be part of the bigger group but finds larger groups intimidating and work better with one-on-one interactions. It makes sense with Jack; he’d seemed more comfortable when it was just Geoff or just Lindsay and Jeremy rather than the whole group.

So the next time they hang out, Gavin starts small. At first, he invites just Jeremy and Fiona, both of whom are good at one-on-one stuff and aren’t currently swept up in other assignments. Jeremy cajoles Jack into using his purple and orange Xbox controllers and Fiona and Jack somehow switch everything to Tetris.

A few more hangouts with just the four of them, and then Lindsay joins in whenever she isn’t rehearsing for an end-of-semester play, bringing Michael and Matt along later on. Matt’s easy-going and chill, and Michael’s no-nonsense attitude balances everything out nicely. A while after that, Gavin brings in Trevor and Alfredo. They mess around with Jack in the same way Gavin does, and Jack sighs but laughs it off, knowing that they’re just teasing. And Geoff goes in and out whenever he has major articles due, but it’s nice when he’s around too.

They all welcome Jack with open arms, and as they meet up more, Gavin watches Jack slowly become more confident around the group. He tends to stick close to Gavin, something oddly vulnerable to it, and it takes him a while to initiate conversations on his own with the others. But he’s been lightening up since he started hanging out with the group, and Gavin couldn’t be happier for him.

Gavin makes sure to spend time with Jack individually as well, not just during their lecture or their computer lab. They game or watch movies in Jack’s apartment, or drive through the city after uni singing along to the music on Jack’s phone.

On one such night they stop off at a field to watch the stars. They’re about an hour out of the city centre, just off the highway. They lay side-by-side on the grass and they talk about their days.

Jack has a group assignment for his directing class, where they have to block a scene in four different ways. It involves a lot of fancy camera movement, like using Steadicam and gimbals, and Gavin offers to help him out with it. Jack says that he appreciates the offer, but one of his group members specializes in cinematography, a semi-shower who refuses to do anything else.

Gavin lets out a big _oof_ at that, because he knows a thing or two about getting shoveled aside by someone who wants to do the cinematography all by themselves, and he tells him about an assignment he has for photography. One for shooting outdoors, actually, and he should have brought his camera because this is a nice field out here, isn’t it? Jack offers to bring him back here another night if he wants, and after double-checking to make sure it’s okay, Gavin says that it would be great.

They settle into a comfortable silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin sees that Jack is watching the stars, but it seems like he’s not really looking at them, as though he’s lost in thought. The moonlight paints his features into something ethereal, and his body is warm next to Gavin’s. They’re laying so close to each other that if Gavin turned to his side, he’d be nose-to-nose with Jack. The thought makes his cheeks heat, and he hopes that it’s not obvious in the moonlight.

“What made you interested in going to film school?” Jack asks.

Gavin ponders the question. Even though they’d talked about their degrees before, it’d been about lecturers and assignments for other classes, trying to find out what classes they’d done before and how they hadn’t run into each other earlier. It’s mostly been Jack sitting at the front of each class and Gavin getting swept up in other groups before he could have noticed Jack, and Gavin’s always been an oblivious one anyway.

But what made Gavin interested in going to film school in the first place?

“I like filming stuff,” Gavin says, finally. It feels inadequate, but that’s all he really has.

In the past, he would have proudly said _the chance to work with like-minded people, to make connections, to learn new things_ , but things hadn’t turned out like that, had they?

“Any other reasons?” Jack asks gently. He looks empathetic, like he knows all the reasons Gavin hasn’t said, but wants to double-check, to make sure he’s not jumping to conclusions.

“Not really,” Gavin shrugs. “Just the usual ones, like making connections and ‘making mistakes in a sandbox’,” he recites, because _that’s_ something he remembers from lectures, about the benefits of film school. “Turned out differently though, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know, has it?”

Gavin’s confused at first, because the casual way he says it implies that he knows that they are two of the few justifiable reasons for going to film school in the first place and that they end up being unmet expectations instead. But there’s also something questioning to it, a reconsideration that pulls Gavin up short. It’s as though Jack thinks that Gavin has actually done both, and Gavin needs to correct him because whatever Jack thinks of him, those aren’t things he’s managed to do.

“It has,” Gavin says. “I haven’t gotten experience outside of uni or gone on any internships, which is the whole point of making connections. And the ‘sandbox’ is just green-screen studios, student film clichés and whatever we can scrounge up for free.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Jack says. “You get the growing pains of filmmaking out at uni. You get to learn what works and what doesn’t. Getting what you can for free shows you how to be resourceful and that you don’t have to have millions of dollars to make a good movie. As for internships, you just have to keep trying until someone gives you a chance.”

“How did you get yours, anyway? The one you did over the summer? Not so that I can pawn off of you, or imply that you’re only useful because you’ve had previous experience,” Gavin adds hastily, because he doesn’t want Jack to think – like some mature aged students do – that he’s only as useful as the work he’s done outside of uni. “Just – I’m curious. Most of the people that I’ve worked with haven’t had the chance to work on a real film set. That if they had, they wouldn’t be here; cheaper and quicker, and your foot’s already in the door, you know? Usually they’ve gotten together with their friends and filmed some random thing over the summer then realized that they wanted to do it more but didn’t have the contacts. But your project sounded like an organized, official film set.”

“Asked one of my lecturers in first-year directing,” Jack says it firmly, but then he pauses, biting his lip. “He’s a good guy, and I know it’s not a bad thing to ask the lecturer – may even be necessary, at this point – but it still feels kind of sad, that my first network comes from talking with a lecturer rather than making connections and friends at uni. What if I hadn’t had that lecturer? What if that lecturer had said no?”

“Then you would have asked your other lecturers until you got something,” Gavin answers immediately, because he can tell that Jack has that kind of determination, that resilience and persistence. “You would have found a way. Besides, friends and connections are all based on being in the right place at the right time. What if I hadn’t met Geoff, or Lindsay, or Michael, or anyone else in the group? What if I hadn’t met you? Things would be very different.”

Jack looks over at him, something like awe on his face. “They would,” he says. “But I’m glad I met you.”

“I’m glad I met you too,” Gavin says earnestly, because it’s true. “It’s all about getting experience, isn’t it? Doesn’t really matter with who or where from, all that.”

“With _whom_ ,” Jack corrects him lightly, because he’s always been a pedantic one. “I guess not. It’s just…I thought I’d have a network of close-knit friends, but apart from you I haven’t really met anyone. I thought of joining the filmmakers group at uni…but I didn’t do that at the start of first year, so it’s too late now.”

“It’s not too late,” Gavin insists, because he needs to get it into Jack’s head that it’s never too late for anything. “You just have to find people who understand, and that’s not based on how far you are in the degree or how old you are; it’s a mentality thing. I’m not part of the filmmakers club either. We could join it together, if you wanted. At least then we’d have a friend in each other?”

Jack blinks at him for a long moment. “Are you sure? What about all your other commitments, and all your other friends? How did you meet them, if not at a filmmakers club?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m offering, aren’t I? I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t mean it. Sure I have a lot of group projects and stuff, but I’d like to do more practical work and all our friends are busy too so I’m sure they’d understand. Maybe with you around the practical work will actually be fun.”

“It…hasn’t been?” Jack asks.

“Not really. Waiting around for hours on end doing bugger all is real fun,” Gavin says sarcastically.

“Other group projects, right,” Jack nods, no doubt remembering the war stories Gavin had shared with him a while back. “How did you meet your other friends, anyway?”

“Michael’s my roommate; he introduced me to Lindsay, who does theatre. I met up with her after an improv class and she introduced me to Jeremy. Jeremy introduced me to Matt and Trevor, and Trevor introduced me to Alfredo. Geoff, I worked on a group project with him. Fiona joined my residence hall last semester and we became friends there.”

“That’s good,” Jack smiles. “They’re all great people. Thank you for introducing me to them.”

“You’re welcome,” Gavin says. “You deserve it. It’s the least I could do.”

“I’m just a film student, same as you,” Jack says modestly, and he has no idea how special he is, does he?

“But that’s the thing,” Gavin begins, because he needs to explain it. “You’re not just another film student.” He turns to face Jack. Their faces are inches apart, and Gavin can feel Jack’s breaths across his cheeks as he looks at him with something more attentive to it. “I’ve been thinking about it, and our project had the smoothest production I’ve ever experienced even though the workload was so much higher, all because of your meticulous organizing and scheduling and planning; because of all that work we did in pre-production. I realized that everyone needs a first A.D. and producer, you know? But no-one wants to be that. Everyone just wants to be cinematographers and directors.

“But you gotta keep people organized, you know? Otherwise you start forgetting things, what you’re really here for.”

The last part comes out choked. Gavin had been thinking over what he’d admitted to Jack while filming the time-lapse together – how he barely remembers any of the film sets he’s worked on – and out here under the stars, with the grass and Jack’s breaths tickling his face, he feels even more vulnerable.

But Jack’s eyes are soft, and he reaches out to cup Gavin’s cheek. Gavin exhales in relief at the comforting touch, pressing his forehead to Jack’s.

“Yeah,” Jack breathes into the air between them. “We always need to remember that. I was talking with Jeremy earlier, about how easy it is to get wrapped up in it all, to get lost in the tiny details and not remember the bigger picture.”

They both scoff a laugh at the unintended pun. Jack’s breath is warm and if Gavin leans in any closer, they’d be touching lips.

“But not everyone’s like you, Gavin. Most of the time, people only care about the directors and cinematographers,” Jack whispers. “No one notices the first A.D., or even the producer – unless it’s about securing money for stuff, of course.”

“That doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” Gavin murmurs. “Filmmaking isn’t a vacuum, is it?”

Jack’s eyes slip shut. “That’s true. But that’s not what most of the students seem to think.”

“Well, uni isn’t forever is it? I know we have to work with them eventually, but sooner or later everyone will be chucked out into the real world, and productions out there are much more than just students in closed environments,” Gavin says, smiling at him when Jack’s eyes fly open in shock, staring at him, seeming to think it over. “Maybe the other students are like me; maybe they didn’t realise the benefits of a producer and first A.D. until it was already handed to them. But now that I know, I have a much greater appreciation and respect for those roles. Films would fall apart without them.”

“Films would fall apart without good cinematographers,” Jack murmurs. “Which is what you are.”

Gavin scoffs out something like a laugh, and Jack’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

“What is?”

“That you’re a good cinematographer.”

“I really don’t know, do I?” Gavin shrugs. “You keep saying that I’m good, but I honestly have no idea if I am or not. I just pick things up as I go because that’s all I can do. You can teach any person how to operate a camera or set up lights, but you can’t teach someone how to organize stuff, or look for the little things.”

“You pick up on that kind of stuff up too, the more you do it,” Jack says. “And you are a good cinematographer. You set up shots like they’re nothing and make adjustments based on different conditions like it’s breathing. Something that I’ve learnt is that if you can learn quickly and work hard, then you’ll do just fine.”

It’s something Gavin had read online, on reddit posts asking, _Should I go to film school?_ But this is the first time he actually, genuinely believes it. Because Jack has seen him work, and he picks up on a lot of things others would miss.

“Thanks, Jack,” Gavin murmurs. “You’re a really good first A.D. and producer. And director, for the record. That’s another thing for the book, right? Of things I’ve learnt. Of things that you’ve learnt.”

Jack smiles softly, hand squeezing Gavin’s cheek. “It is.”

Gavin nuzzles into the touch, and Jack hums.

They settle into a comfortable silence, breaths mingling, heads pressed together. It takes a while for Gavin to process everything that’s been said, but then he finally circles back around to Jack’s first question.

“Why did you decide to come to film school?”

“Same reasons as you,” Jack says. “To learn how to make films, to make connections. I’ve always loved movies, so making them seemed like a natural choice. Took me a while to figure that out, though. Worked for a few years first, just in shitty office jobs and retail. I knew after a while that that’s not the kind of work I want to do for the rest of my life.”

Gavin nods. It’s a familiar story, one that he can relate to himself. “I’m the same. I love filming things, love seeing them come to life. I can’t see myself doing anything else. But it’s hard to break into the industry, and having uni debt on top of that doesn’t help either.”

Jack gives him a considering look. “Sure, but at the end of the day, it’s a combination of making luck for yourself, being able to pick up stuff quickly, being willing to work hard and knowing the reality of what you’re getting yourself into.”

Gavin considers this. It’s…all true. It took until the end of his first semester, but Gavin had realized that career prospects for the next few years would be eighteen-hour days for months at a time as an unpaid personal assistant, camera operator, or some other low-end grunt work. It’s a harsh reality, but it’s one he’s slowly been getting more comfortable with, however grim that seems.

He tells Jack this, and to that, Jack says:

“Then you’ll be just fine. We’ll both be just fine.”

They fall silent again. There’s a light breeze tonight, but as the night has gone on it’s gotten colder and colder. They stay pressed together for a little longer, but then Jack’s pulling away and standing up, saying that it’s late and they should get back home for some sleep.

Jack helps him up, and afterwards, Gavin realises, rather abruptly, how empty and cold he feels now that Jack’s not touching him.

And as Jack drops him off that night, Gavin realizes, somewhat belatedly, that he’s fallen for him.

* * *

Here’s the thing about Gavin and dating.

First, it’s rare that Gavin finds anyone who can put up with him long enough to become friends, much less a date.

Second, Gavin doesn’t go on dates. Between uni, friends and filming stuff, he doesn’t have the time.

Third, he really likes Jack, like _really, really_ likes him, and they’re friends now, and he doesn’t want to screw this up.

So he doesn’t say anything about it, keeps his feelings to himself. He tries not to get so starry-eyed whenever Jack rambles on about cinematography with breath-taking passion. He tries not to be too eager as he fires back with his own thoughts and they end up debating about composition. He tries not to read too much into the delight in Jack’s eyes whenever they play video games or watch movies or drive around together or hang out with the rest of the group.

And then the last lecture for the semester rolls around and suddenly Jack’s tapping him on the shoulder and after Gavin looks up from the cat video he’s been replaying on mute, he’s greeted by a folded piece of paper and Jack biting his lip.

Despite the first time Gavin had turned up to their lecture, they’re not normally ones to pass notes to each other. Most lectures involve Jack fastidiously writing down notes and Gavin watching videos on mute between typing down dot points.

So Gavin slowly takes the note and, when Jack gestures at him to read it, Gavin unfolds it.

**_Can I talk to you after the lecture? I need to tell you something._ **

Gavin’s brain short-circuits.

He has no idea what Jack could possibly need to tell him. Maybe he wants to ask about the exam? But then he would have said that he needed to _ask_ him something, not tell him. Maybe he can’t make it to Lindsay’s end-of-semester play next week? But then he wouldn’t be writing notes like this; he’d just tell him, or text him, or something.

Still, whatever Jack needs, Gavin’s up for it. So, he writes:

**Sure. Is it a big thing or small thing?**

Jack hesitates, then he finally writes:

**_It’s a big thing. What I want to tell you…I want you to know that you’re under no obligation or anything. We can talk things out._ **

Gavin furrows his eyebrows, because he’s not sure what Jack means, but he’s already turned back to his note-taking, and Gavin decides to wait.

The lecture ends, but Jack doesn’t move.

“There’s no class after this, it’s fine,” Jack manages a nervous smile, and Gavin wonders just how big this _something_ of Jack’s is.

Gavin nods and sits back in his seat. But as the rest of the students file out, Gavin grows more and more concerned at the tenseness in his features, the way he’s clasping his hands together like they’ll give him courage. For what, Gavin doesn’t know, but he waits with him.

Finally, the lecturer leaves and it’s just the two of them in the room. Jack worries at his lip, and Gavin looks away, thinking that maybe if they’re not eye to eye then it would ease Jack’s nerves.

“Gavin – ” Jack says, and Gavin turns to him. There’s something determined in his eyes now.

He pauses, and Gavin nods at him to continue.

“I like you. As in, I have a crush on you,” Jack blurts out suddenly. **Dun dun dun duuuuuuun.**

It takes a while for the words to register. Gavin stares at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. And when it finally hits him –

Oh.

That’s.

A very big Thing. A very big thing indeed, and –

He’d just come outright and laid all his cards on the table, and –

Gavin likes him a lot too, and he needs to say it, but the words have disappeared from his mouth, and –

Jack’s starting to shift awkwardly now – “Gavin, I know it’s sudden, it’s okay if you don’t like me back – ”

“I do,” Gavin blurts out. He swallows, and the words come easier now that he’s dropped the ball. “I like you too. A lot.”

Jack stares at him for a long moment. “You do?” he asks, finally.

“I do,” Gavin nods, smiling softly at him.

“How long? When? Sorry – that sounds vain,” Jack fumbles out, and Gavin nearly laughs at the absurdity of it, but he knows that Jack is nervous too.

“Since – I don’t know when, actually,” Gavin says, as he tries to think it over.

Was it the night they filmed the time-lapse? Was it when they were playing pool? One of the times they played video games together? That time they had lunch at Rudy’s? When they scouted the park and side-streets? When they poured over the script of their project together?

The first time Jack asked for his opinion, back in his dining room?

“All of it. None of it. I don’t know,” Gavin finally says. “But a long while. Maybe even the first time we met up. I – I wasn’t sure if you’d ever like me back. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

A nervous and relieved laugh rushes through Jack’s lips. “I didn’t want to mess things up either.”

Jack hesitantly reaches over and covers his hand with his. Gavin sighs in relief, turning his hand over and squeezing Jack’s hand. It’s large enough that he can’t squeeze all of it with his smaller hand, but Jack doesn’t seem to care, and his hand is warm and soothing and _nice._

“I’ve had feelings for you for a while,” Jack says. “I liked you from the start. You’ve never treated me differently because I’m a mature aged student, or because I’m older. But it’s not just that.” He scoffs out a disbelieving chuckle. “You talk with me. You’re patient with me. You encourage me. You never expect anything from me, not even the answers to questions on a project. But you don’t take my shit, either. You’re the first person I’ve felt comfortable with since I came to uni.”

“Jack…” Gavin strokes the back of Jack’s hand with his thumb, fondness for Jack bursting out of him.

“It’s true,” Jack says, squeezing his hand. “I…I’ve always felt out of place here. I just didn’t have a lot going for me. Then you came along. You were so great during the project, and then after it was over you reached out to me and we became friends. And all your friends have become my friends too, and that’s because you gave me the chance to get to know them individually. I realized that, not only are you the smartest person I’ve ever met, but you’re also the most wonderful, funny and charming person. And all along, you’ve heard me out, no matter what.”

Gavin kisses him.

Jack kisses him back passionately, wrapping his arms around him tightly, and Gavin’s climbing into his lap before he knows it.

Or he would have, if there wasn’t the damn chair arm in the way.

They laugh, pulling apart. Gavin maneuvers his way around it, Jack keeping one hand on Gavin’s waist, and once Gavin’s standing in front of him they go back to kissing, exploring each other languidly as Gavin settles on Jack’s lap. Jack’s hands splay across his back, and Gavin’s swept up in the feeling of Jack’s lips against his, the depth of his kiss. He feels like he’s flying, like he could stay here forever, but at some point they have to break apart for air.

“So, do you like me back, or…?” Jack asks. It’s light, but with a hint of tentativeness to it, like Gavin literally kissing him wasn’t clear enough, and Gavin huffs fondly and pecks him on the lips.

“You absolute cheesecake, of course I do.”

Jack laughs, joyous and bright, and he takes Gavin’s hand again, squeezing it tightly. Gavin squeezes it back, and the two of them leave the lecture room together, hand in hand.

* * *

(Later, Gavin tells him of all the ways he’s fallen for Jack too. How he communicates more – _cares_ more – than anyone he’s met. How hard he works, how he cares about all the little details. How he’s fun too.

And a week later, after their final exams, they go to Lindsay’s end-of-semester play with the rest of the group. They end up cuddling and holding hands together the whole show, and everyone in the group playfully teases them for it before throwing them a party in the rec room.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up will probably be the Jackvin Lighthouse keepers/island caretakers AU =)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to chat with me on tumblr (username: booshlagoosh).


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